I have to say that I appreciate Tumblr showing me all the lesbian adverts this month and I’m going to be really sad when June ends and the lesbians will, most likely, disappear from my dash (or at least from the ads).
Tim shifted from foot to foot, clutching the package of oreos tighter in his grip. He bit his lip and stared at Jason’s closed door. He let out a sigh and raised a hand, ready to knock when the door was pulled open.
He blinked and stared up at Jason who was looking at him expectantly, eyebrow raised. Tim’s eyes drifted down and found Jason without a shirt. He sucked in a breath at the scars littering Jason’s chest, something twisting uncomfortably in his chest.
“Oh, sorry,” Jason mumbled, taking notice of his change in demeanor. “I guess I should’ve expected you’d forget about the scars.” He stepped back into his room and pulled open his dresser, throwing a shirt over his head. Even when the fabric came down to cover his skin, Tim couldn’t pull his eyes away, imagining how much pain or how many fights Jason had gotten into to get so many scars.
As far as Tim knew, Jason was a skilled fighter who’d been ready to knock him on his ass down in the Cave. He couldn’t imagine how Jason could ever lose a fight even though he said Tim was able to win against him when he remembered how to fight.
“Hey,” Jason said, softly. “Hey, Tim? Are you okay?” He reached out and touched Tim’s arm lightly and he jerked, eyes snapping up to Jason’s face.
“Sorry, I-sorry,” he said, shoving the package of oreos against Jason’s chest before he turned on his heel and hurried down the hallway.
“Hey, Tim,” Jason said, following after him.
Tim wrapped his arms around himself, pushing into his room.
“Tim, what’s wrong?” Jason asked behind him.
He didn’t respond, gaze fixed on the floor as he tried to make sense of what he’d seen.
“Come on, Timmy,” Jason said, voice soft. “You can talk to me. What’s wrong?” His hand was gentle as it came to rest on Tim’s arm. He turned him around, but he didn’t look up.
“You…your scars…” Tim whispered. “You have so many scars.”
“It’s part of being a vigilante. We don’t win every fight.” He let out a breath. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed and I’m not sure if I should tell you, but you have scars marking your body, too.”
Tim hunched his shoulders. “I haven’t looked yet. But you’re such a strong fighter. You’re so strong. How…how did you get so many scars?”
“Believe it or not, Tim, there are fighters better than me in the world. Bruce is one of them and he’s gotten just as many scars as the rest of us.”
Tim stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He rested his head against Jason’s chest and shut his eyes. Jason’s arm wrapped around him and pulled him close, hand running up and down Tim’s spine.
“Are you gonna be okay?” he murmured.
“I guess…” Tim said. “It was a bit of a shock.”
Jason patted his back. “Did you need something before you ran off at the sight of my…because of that?”
Tim’s face heated. “I wanted to apologize. For getting you in trouble with Bruce.”
Jason’s body shook underneath him as he laughed. “You didn’t get me in trouble. He’s a bit of a hard ass, but that’s not being in trouble, so don’t worry about it. Anyway, how do you know I wasn’t just using your amnesia to get his spandex in a twist?”
Tim’s stomach turned. “Were you?” he asked.
“No,” Jason sighed. “No, I wasn’t.”
“Okay.”
“Hey, do you want to do something? I’ve got a whole package of oreos I can’t eat on my own. I could sure use some help.”
Tim laughed and stepped back out of Jason’s hold. He looked up and gave him a smile. “Sure, what were you thinking?”
“Let’s see…we have endless movies and T.V. options or the latest gaming consoles. We have a fully stocked library and probably a hundred rooms in this place that could be explored.”
“Games?” Tim asked.
“Oh, you’re going to love this,” Jason said, grinning pulling at his lips. “Let me just go grab the oreos,” he said, rushing back down to his room.
Tim stepped into the hallway and Jason didn’t even bother slowing down as he hurried back. He grabbed Tim’s hand and pulled him down the hallway. Tim grinned, laughing as they hurried down the stairs and into the entertainment room they’d been in the other night while watching movies.
“Go ahead and take a seat,” Jason said, shoving the oreos into his hands. “I’ll get things set up.
Tim sat cross-legged on the couch and pulled open the oreos, biting one in half as he watched Jason fiddle with cases and disks. He carried two white remotes over to the couch and handed one to Tim.
“What are we playing?” Tim asked.
Jason grinned. “Mario Kart.”
The screen lit up with the start menu and Jason quickly flicked through the settings, queuing their game before Tim could even read the words on the screen.
“Go ahead and pick your character. You’re the blue box,” Jason explained.
Tim nodded and scrolled through the characters until he settled on a green dragon looking thing.
“Yoshi, nice,” Jason commented.
The screen changed and Jason flicked through different pictures of race tracks before clicking one.
“So, you’re going to hold the remote sideways, like that,” Jason said, showing Tim his own hands. “You press the ‘2′ button to go and tilt the remote back and forth to change direction, got it?”
“I think so,” Tim said, uncertainly.
“You’ll get the hang of it,” Jason said, popping an oreo into his mouth as the stoplight on the screen started to count down. Tim bit his lip as the race started and he belatedly pressed the button to make his character move, leaving him in last place.
Jason leaned forward, eyes intent on the screen. He’d easily pulled ahead of all the other characters. Tim fumbled the first turn, jerking his remote too far to the left. He struggled to get back on course and kept going, intent on making it through the course without letting it get the best of him.
Tim fought to keep his eyes on his own character, wanting to watch Jason expertly drive around the course and use the shining mystery blocks to throw weapons and attacks at the other drivers who tried to pass him or make him fumble. Tim ran over more than one banana peel because of it.
The other characters were halfway done with their third lap when Tim was starting his. He hit a mystery block and blinked when a blue shell started spinning around him. He frowned and released it.
“No, Tim, no, no, no!” Jason said as he watched what happened.
“What?” Tim asked. “What did I do?”
“Shit, shit, shit,” Jason cursed. “Come on, come on…”
Tim watched as the blue shell he’d fired showed up behind Jason and hit him, causing him to stop dead a few feet from the finish. A few players streaked passed and claimed the first few places while Jason fought to get his character moving again.
Tim laughed, sinking back into the couch cushions. Jason glared at him when he crossed the finish line and Tim couldn’t care less that the game ended before he could get to the end.
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” Jason asked.
Tim grinned.
“If that’s how it’s going to be, let’s see how well you handle Rainbow Road,” he muttered, flicking through the race tracks.
Tim chuckled, not caring if he was going to end up coming in last place again because he was having a great time watching Jason give this game his entire focus.
For someone who hates writing weddings and has successfully avoided putting them into her fics for 20 years, how am I writing my fourth one since January? >.<;
Me: *picks up “dead” bat in my yard so my dog doesn’t eat it*
“Dead” bat: O_O
Me: O_O
Me upon realizing I am holding a very not dead bat and not dead bat realizing it has been picked up by a large creature at the exact same second: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!
He scream
You want rabies? That’s how you get rabies
1.I picked it up with a towel and gardening gloves and never once touched it with my bare hands.
2.
3.The bat was at the bottom of my porch where I have to take my dog out but I guess I should have just left it there for her to eat right?
4.It was in a position that made it clear that it was most likely hurt from hitting my house and not just sick. It’s warming up in my area and they are just coming out from the winter and it was most likely confused because I live right next to the highway and there’s a lot of noise.
5.You can only get rabies from a bat by being bitten or otherwise getting its saliva in your bloodstream. And it was two inches long and I’m a grown ass adult with a towel and gardening gloves and a thick ass sweater.
Good thing you tagged it as “stupid people” because you obviously don’t know enough about the situation
I’m sorry I tagged it that way. That was incredibly childish of me. I’ve just had it pounded into my head that you don’t mess with sick or injured wildlife because of the risk of exposure.
I’m a registered Veterinary technician and I’ve worked with a rabid cat and it was terrifying
I’m sorry I got so defensive. I’ve seen a lot of bats killed in my area because people are misinformed about the rabies situation. I used to play with them as a kid by throwing sticks in the air and watching them swoop to get them and each year they were noticably fewer until they were just gone.
That was the most adult way I’ve ever seen an argument addressed on the internet.
OH MY GOD whyyyy did no one tell me you’re supposed to send thank-yous after interviews?? Why would I do that???
“Thank you for this incredibly stressful 30 minutes that I have had to re-structure my entire day around and which will give me anxiety poos for the next 24 hours.”
I HATE ETIQUETTE IT’S THE MOST IMPOSSIBLE THING FOR ME TO LEARN WITHOUT SOMEONE DIRECTLY TELLING ME THIS SHIT
NO ONE TOLD YOU???? WTF! I HAVE FAILED YOU.
Also:
Dear ______:
Thank you so much for the opportunity to sit down with you (&________) to discuss the [insert job position]. I am grateful to be considered for the position. I think I will be a great fit at [company name], especially given my experience in __________. [insert possible reference to something you talked about, something that excited you.] I look forward to hearing from you [and if you are feeling super confident: and working together in the future].
Sincerely,
@mellivorinae
THIS IS A LIFESAVING TEMPLATE
YOU ARE WELCOME
My brother got a really great paid internship one summer. The guy who hired him said the deciding factor was the professional thank you letter my brother sent after the interview.
should it be an email? or like a physical letter?
email, you want to send it within a few hours at max after the interview if you can so it’s fresh in their mind who you are.
Confirmed! I interviewed for a job right after arriving in NY. The interview went incredibly well, and I went home and immediately wrote a thank you letter and put it in the mail. I had a super good feeling about this interview.
I didn’t get the job.
However, a few weeks later, I was called in to interview with another editor in the same company, and I did get that job. I found out later from the initial editor (the one who didn’t hire me) that he had planned to offer me the job, but since I didn’t follow up with a thank you letter, he assumed I didn’t really want it. He offered the job to another contender–but when he got my letter in the mail shortly after the offer had already been made, he went to HR and gave me a glowing recommendation. It was based on that recommendation that I got called in for the second interview.
So: send an email thank you immediately (same day!) after the interview. If you’re feeling extra, go ahead and send a written one too. OR go immediately to a coffee shop, write the letter, and return to the office and give it to the secretary.
Either way, those letters are important.
Pro tip: If you really want HR to develop a personal interest in your application, publicly thank them on linkedin. Just make a short post telling your network about how X recruiter really went above and beyond to make you feel welcome, or about how be accommodating and professional they were, or whatever. Make sure to use the mention feature so they’ll get a notification and see it.
Flattery will get you everywhere… and public flattery that might make its way back to their manager, doubly so.
Obligatory plug for one of FreePrintable.net’s sites: ThankYouLetter.ws. They have a whole section with interview thank you letter templates, and a page with specific tips for interview thank you letters. (There are also tons of other letter templates if you browse around a bit.)
In modern popular culture torture is consistently linked to
interrogation: to getting information from a prisoner.
Now I’ve written several times why this trope is not only
wrong but also harmful and is used in the real world to justify torture. O’Mara
and Rejali also cover this in depth over several hundred pages for anyone who
wants more information.
I often get asked for realistic alternatives: what does actually work? How can characters,
bad or good, actually go about gaining information in a realistic way?
This isn’t going to be an exhaustive list, and I feel I
should state that I have no practical experience of interrogation. Hopefully
though it can serve as a starting point that will help you think about how characters come by information in
your stories.
The first important
point is that interrogation generally isn’t very effective.
Very little useful information comes from interrogation of
suspects when compared to all the other sources of information police and
intelligence agencies draw on.
There are a several reasons interrogation isn’t hugely
useful including:
·
Human memory isn’t that good. Even well meaning
people who want to help forget important details.
·
People are much better at lying than detecting
lies. Even people who describe themselves as good at detecting when someone is lying do a very poor job.
·
Memories are easily modified in stressful
situations. Even someone who isn’t trying to can plant suggestions leading to
false memories, directing the interrogation in a particular direction without
even realising it.
Some useful
information does come from interrogation (and I’ll come back to how to handle
it in a moment) but, realistically the following are more important sources of
information in any investigation:
Physical forensic
evidence
This doesn’t just mean things like hair samples and DNA.
Computer records, credit card bills, surveillance camera footage, library
records and letters can tell you an awful lot about a person. Reading a
character’s emails or letters and keeping track of their bills can reveal a lot of plot relevant information such as
whether two characters are in contact or why a character might be desperate for
money.
Gathering this sort of information takes a lot of time and
hard work. It’s not as simple as collecting
evidence, such as a piece of hair or a computer hard drive, the information has
to be analysed and interpreted correctly.
The hair could be DNA tested and cross referenced with a
database or simply identified as human and of a particular type and colour.
(Identifying it as human is important, I know at least one forensic tech who
was handed cow hair and told it was definitely from a suspect)
The computer hard drive would need to be poured over file by
file. It’s not quite enough to suppose character A could access character B’s
emails, A has to have the time and inclination to read the damn things.
An important point to consider is how dedicated your
characters are. Careful collection and examination of evidence is probably the best way of finding something out.
But it requires patience, hard work and a lot of time.
There’s a reason police work is a full time job and there’s
a reason a lot of people in professions like policing might think torture is
easier. Gathering and analysing evidence
is hard.
It’s worth considering whether your character has the
resources and inclination to go down this route before you decide to use it.
Observation
This is the stake-out scene from every police movie and tv
show. It’s having one character physically following and watching another
character for as long as humanly possible, recording everywhere they go and
everything they do.
It means finding out where a character lives, watching them
at work, noting where they eat lunch and who with. Finding out where they go in
their free time and how often. When they go to bed. Who they visit. How long
they do it for. The minute detail of everything someone does in their day recorded
for a period of weeks or months to build up a picture of the person.
If that sounds creepy that’s because it is.
This is a very time consuming strategy. It requires a lot of
focus and patience and dedication or the ability to hire someone who has those
qualities. It’s simpler than systematically gathering physical evidence and
it’s easier to do discretely.
Informants
This is probably the simplest major method of gathering
information. It can be as complicated as the Soviet Union network of paid informants
or as straight-forward as people coming forward and volunteering information.
This is incredibly
important to police investigations. Information from voluntary informants
led to the capture of the London tube bombers in 2005. The suspects were identified
by their family and neighbours who went to the police.
This sort of informal reporting doesn’t just occur in police
contexts. From a writing perspective the way I tend to think about it is in
terms of crossing societal lines.
Every culture and subculture has ideas about what is and
what is not acceptable. Every group has an idea of what’s ‘going too far’.
You might be writing a story set around a violent, criminal
subculture where theft and murder of other adults are the norm. But the same
characters who wouldn’t dream of reporting an enemy for killing another adult
might feel differently about the murder of a child.
A religious character might excuse their priest’s affairs,
but report anything they’d see as desecration or blasphemy.
A scientist might ignore a colleague harassing their lab
assistants but report data fraud.
Think about what matters to the characters and you’ll be
able to tell when they’d freely
volunteer information.
If you can’t think
of anything emotional that would cause them to inform remember that your
characters could pay informants. And then consider how many people who really
need some cash might be in a position to watch or steal from other characters.
Cleaners, drivers, people who deliver supplies- anyone who
would be on a low wage, have regular contact with the character but only a
superficial relationship could be a very valuable informant.
Interrogation
At the time of writing there is really not enough systematic
research on effective interrogation. As a result I’m going to try and
concentrate on things we’re reasonably sure help
rather than getting bogged down in academic discussions about what might be useful. Those discussions are
interesting but not much help to writers.
1)
The first important point is that interrogation takes time.
If a character is volunteering information that probably
won’t take as long but somewhere in the
region of 3-6 hours would still be reasonable. A witness to a crime or
victim would probably need time and reassurance in order to tell the
authorities what they know to the best of their ability.
Someone who isn’t
really willing to talk (for whatever reason) will need much longer. A day is
actually unusually short. Weeks or even
up to a month is not unreasonable.
Timeframes are going to vary depending on the characters and the situation the
plot has put them in but I think it’s important to remember that interrogation
isn’t quick and it isn’t simple.
2)
Interrogators and characters being interrogated should
speak a common language.
It sounds simple and obvious but if the characters can’t
communicate effectively interrogation is almost
certainly going to fail.
Using translators does not seem to be as effective as using
people who speak the language but there haven’t been systematic studies of
speakers vs interpreters as far as I know.
3)
Good record keeping is essential for effective interrogation.
That’s straightforward in a modern setting with recording
equipment but less so in a historical one.
Having a record of everything the suspect character says
when interviewed means that everything they say can be analysed by multiple
people, can be cross checked against what they said previously and can be
stored in a legible format in case it’s needed later.
Checking what a
suspect character said today against what they said yesterday or even last week
helps investigators to tell the difference between fact and fiction. Lies
are difficult to keep consistent, especially over longer periods of time.
Inconsistencies can be helpful and consistencies can help highlight areas
investigators should look into in greater depth.
Having multiple people able to analyse information also
helps hugely, each individual brings their own specialist knowledge to the
investigation. Which can be as simple as recognising a local’s nickname (and so
correctly identifying them later) or as complex as analysing how a suspect
claims they made a bomb and recognising that that process wouldn’t work.
4)
Even someone who genuinely wants to help will forget
details and get things wrong.
That isn’t unusual and it certainly isn’t a sign that the
character is unwilling or being deliberately unhelpful. In fact a story that sounds too detailed and too precise might well be
a sign of a pre-scripted and pre-rehearsed lie.
5)
Very very few people refuse to talk.
Whether they talk about anything helpful is of course another matter but the stereotype of a tough
criminal sitting completely silently and staring down a cop is incredibly rare
in reality.
A smart interrogator
will try to get their suspect chatting in the hope that some useful information
will come out.
Let’s say one of our characters is suspected of being part
of a larger conspiracy of some kind. And he won’t chat about any of the
‘interesting’ material the cops have found in his house, but he’s happy to talk
to the interrogator about the local football team.
The interrogator might notice that he seems to go to watch
the local team regularly and that he goes with the same set of friends. Friends
who might not be part of this conspiracy but might have heard something useful
from the suspect.
A smart suspect will
try to keep up a conversation peppered with misleading hints and
misinformation.
6)
Have the interrogating character establish a friendly
rapport with their interviewee.
It is easier to talk to someone who comes across as
friendly, interested in what you have to say and broadly sympathetic to your
position.
It is much more difficult to talk to someone who shouts,
screams and acts in an aggressive and confrontational manner.
The interrogator’s job is primarily to make it easy for the suspect to talk. Everything
else follows from that.
A polite, engaging, sociable character who can keep calm
under pressure would be a good pick. Someone who can be ‘friends’ with anybody.
Let me stress that
this can be extremely difficult. We’re talking about a character who can
walk into a room with the worst possible criminals and try to make friends with
them; a character who is successful
at doing so. Don’t be afraid to show the kind of toll that takes on the
character.
7)
Don’t let suspects talk to each other before hand.
I’ve discussed elsewhere why solitary confinement is
harmful- keeping characters completely isolated might well impair their memory
of events.
But allowing characters to talk to each other before their interrogated also affects
memory both for characters who want to
mislead interrogators and for characters who want to help.
Essentially we edit our memories all the time. Discussion of
shared experiences with other people is a major trigger for natural alternation of memories.
Four witnesses of the same events who don’t talk to each
other in advance will give four different but broadly similar accounts.
If the same witnesses talk to each other before they’re interviewed
they might well all report the same
inaccuracies.
8)
Have interviewed characters tell their story backwards.
This is a pretty simple memory aid that makes it easier for
interrogators to spot inconsistencies in a story. These inconsistencies don’t necessarily indicate a lie but they
highlight areas a character might be unsure of or might have inaccurate
memories of.
For instance if a character witnessed a car crash they might
be instructed to start their account from the moment the ambulances arrived at
the scene and work backwards from there until they reach the moments just
before the crash.
This technique can also help remind characters of additional
details as they tell the story.
9)
There is no reliable way to tell if someone is lying by
looking at them.
Even people who judge
themselves as ‘good’ at detecting lies perform poorly in tests.
There are no reliable ‘tests’ for lying. There are no working lie detector tests and based
on how complex an action lying is short of literally reading minds I don’t
think it would be possible.
The only reliable way to tell if someone lied is to double
check everything they said.
10) Body
language is not a reliable indicator of a character’s guilt or innocence.
A lot of people still believe that it is and there isn’t
necessarily anything wrong with your characters believing that- but I’d advise
caution.
An interrogator character might recognise that a suspect
character is nervous, but to instantly ‘know’ why they’d need to be psychic.
The vast majority of people who conduct interrogations in
real life have little to no formal training. In the USA (2013) the average was
between 8-15 hours of the full training program. Consider how many hours you’d
spend on a year long full time education course and you’ll get an idea of how
little training that is.
We are what fills in
the gap.
People with almost no training look to our portrayals of tough, aggressive interrogators who ‘always’ get
results and, consciously or not, those portrayals influence them.
The truth is interrogation isn’t a great way of getting
information and interrogators are only human: they don’t have a supernatural
insight into the suspect or crime.
But we tend to write them as if they do. Personally I think
that’s part of the problem- We focus on interrogation because of its dramatic
potential. That focus warps how both the public and people involved in investigations view interrogation. It places
too much focus on a comparatively poor information gathering technique and
leads to assumptions that interrogators are capable of more than they
realistically are.
Trust, human interaction and treating other people as human
is important. Anything that undermines that undermines interrogation.
Note on the record-keeping in historical circumstances: the Inquisition actually invented the basis of modern indexing, so as to be able to compare what all the people connected to a case said, or what a given individual said in two interrogations years apart.
The latter ability, to confront a guy with his exact words six years ago, was a terrifying unheard-of power in the Middle Ages. For period pieces, it could enhance your story a lot to recreate that shock.
Can we as millennials and gen-z’s collectively agree that NObody Cares about elbows on the table like Why was that Ever A Problem for Anyone?? We can chill right?
nobody asked for this but the origin of not putting one’s elbows on the table comes from the late 18th/early 19th century when wooden ships were still used in the navy- sailors would balance their plates between their elbows while eating to keep them from sliding around. because sailors developed a reputation on-land for being uncouth and aggressive, the placing of elbows on the table became associated with such behaviour.
some cultural historians believe it also goes back further, to the middle ages, when large banquet-style meals were served on trestle tables that had no side support. if someone put their elbows on the table, they risked bringing the whole table down with them.
so basically, there is no longer any need to NOT put elbows on the table, and there hasn’t been since the advent of steamships.
I love this because now i can smartass the next person who tries to give me shit for it
‘Queer’ was reclaimed as an umbrella term for people identifying as not-heterosexual and/or not-cisgender in the early 1980s, but being queer is more than just being non-straight/non-cis; it’s a political and ideological statement, a label asserting an identity distinct from gay and/or traditional gender identities.
People identifying as queer are typically not cis gays or cis lesbians, but bi, pan, ace, trans, nonbinary, intersex, etc.: we’re the silent/ced letters. We’re the marginalised majority within the LGBTQIA+ community, and
‘queer’ is our rallying cry.
And that’s equally pissing off and terrifying terfs and cis LGs.
There’s absolutely no historical or sociolinguistic reason why ‘queer’ should be a worse slur than ‘gay.’ Remember how we had all those campaigns to make people stop using ‘gay’ as a synonym for ‘bad’?
Yet nobody is suggesting we should abolish ‘gay’ as a label. We accept that even though ‘gay’ sometimes is and historically frequently was used in a derogatory manner, mlm individuals have the right to use that word. We have ad campaigns, twitter hashtags, and viral Facebook posts defending ‘gay’ as an identity label and asking people to stop using it as a slur.
Whereas ‘queer’ is treated exactly opposite: a small but vocal group of people within feminist and LGBTQIA+ circles insists that it’s a slur and demands that others to stop using it as a personal, self-chosen identity label.
Why?
Because “queer is a slur” was invented by terfs specifically to exclude trans, nonbinary, and
intersex people from feminist and non-heterosexual discourse, and was
subsequently adopted by cis gays and cis lesbians to exclude bi/pan and ace
people.
It’s classic divide-and-conquer tactics: when our umbrella term is redefined as a slur and we’re harassed into silence for using it, we no longer have a word for what we are allowing us to organise for social/political/economic support; we are denied the opportunity to influence or shape the spaces we inhabit; we can’t challenge existing community power structures; we’re erased from our own history.
Pro tip: when you alter historical evidence to deny a marginalised group empowerment, you’re one of the bad guys.
“Queer is a slur” is used by terfs and cis gays/lesbians to silence the voices of trans/nonbinary/intersex/bi/pan/ace people in society and even within our own communities, to isolate us and shame us for existing.
“Queer is a slur” is saying “I am offended by people who do not conform to traditional gender or sexual identities because they are not sexually available to me or validate my personal identity.”
“Queer is a slur” is defending heteronormativity.
“Queer is a slur” is frankly embarrassing. It’s an admission of ignorance and prejudice. It’s an insidious discriminatory discourse parroted uncritically in support of a divisive us-vs-them mentality targeting the most vulnerable members of the LGBTQIA+ community for lack of courage to confront the white cis straight men who pose an actual danger to us as individuals and as a community.
Tl;dr:
I’m here, I’m queer, and I’m too old for this shit.
Are you still accepting prompts?😊 can we have a JayTim drabble with the following line: “You’re my favorite muse.”
This can be read as a precursor to a story @themandylion is working on, which is inspired by the JayKyle AU short I wrote where Kyle is a private investigator hired by Jason to find some stolen pictures that mean a lot to him.
~*~
There are times when Tim feels as though he lives in an alternate reality, where the current moment is so surreal that it falls outside of everything he has experienced.
This is one of those moments.
He adjusts the curtains again and more light streams in to highlight and shadow different parts of Jason’s body. All that bare skin makes his mouth water but Tim reins in his instinctual response, even if it is difficult when Jason is giving him that hooded look that screams all the dirty things he’s thinking about doing to him.
“Are you done yet?” Jason asks, shifting on the bed. He’s sprawled out across their bed, laying on his stomach. The white of the down comforter contrasts starkly against his tanned skin. They’d been to the beach the week before, a private beach owned by Jason’s adopted father, and the man didn’t see much need to wear anything when there weren’t prying eyes around.
It bothered Tim a bit then, but he’s all for it now as there are no distracting tan lines to edit out of his pictures later. “Almost,” he replies to his fiancé.
Tim returns to his camera and checks the settings again. He takes a test shot, then adds a filter when he doesn’t like what he sees on the digital display. This may be an art project that Jason is amusing him on, but he’ll be damned if it doesn’t turn out perfect.
Jason shifts again, revealing the long line of his thigh, thick and heavy with corded muscle. He bends his knee and props himself up to mock glare at Tim. His hair is a disheveled mess from where Tim ran his hands through it earlier. “How naughty are these pictures going to be?”
“I’m not taking pictures of your junk,” Tim replies, taking another picture and inspecting it with a critical eye. The light is perfect and the filter softens it more, giving Jason a hazy glow. These are going to be stunning when he develops them. Black and white for sure.
“You’re the only one I’d let,” Jason replies. He rolls onto his back, revealing the chiseled lines of his torso, and a thin trail of hair over his abdomen ending in a dark nest around his half hard cock. There’s a challenging look in Jason’s eyes.
Despite himself, Tim takes a picture. “Raise the knee closest to me,” he says, finally giving Jason some direction. “I love your dick but that’s not what I’m after right now.”
“What are you after?” Jason asks, complying with Tim’s request. He pointedly stretches and Tim snaps another picture, moving in a little closer to get a different angle.
“Perfection.”
Jason snorts, trying hard not to laugh. “Tim, I hate to break it to you, but if you’re looking for the perfect body, perhaps Dick should be laying here instead of me.”
Tim lowers his camera, frowning. “Why would I want to take a picture of your brother?”
“Because he’s hot and is an actual model?” Jason retorts, running a hand through his hair.
Tim manages to catch the movement at the last second and wants to cry over how perfect Jason’s jaw appears in the shot. “Jason, do you have any idea what you are to me?”
“Your fiancé?”
“No, you dolt.” Tim sits down and traces a finger between the broad planes of Jason’s chest. It is a movement he’s done many times with his tongue and he knows Jason is remembering it too as a flash of heat enters his blue-green eyes. “You’re my favorite muse.”
He punctuates his statement with a kiss, right over Jason’s heart.
“You’re a sap,” Jason replies brusquely, but there’s a faint hint of pink on his cheeks that belies his tone.
Tim kisses him again, lingering over the spot. He can feel Jason’s heart beating faster beneath him. “Perhaps, but you’re the one lying here buck-naked just because I asked.”
There’s another flash in Jason’s eyes. “Then perhaps the photographer should take his clothes off too. Might make this more interesting.”
Tim laughs as he stands and removes his shirt, humoring Jason. “This is supposed to be a photoshoot, not a porno.”
Tim watched in horror as the bo staff got closer and closer to him. He reached out, hoping to somehow catch the slim piece of wood. It smacked into his hand and bounced off before he could get a grip on it. He threw out his other arm, hoping to keep it from clattering to the ground. He fumbled before he managed to get a solid grip on it and pressed it against his chest.
He looked up and found Jason staring at him with a raised eyebrow.
“Okayyyy,” he drawled. “Not the start that I was expecting, but maybe things can get better.”
“What do you mean?” Tim asked. “What are we going to do?”
“We’re gonna spar,” he said easily walking closer to Tim on the mat.
“We’re gonna what?” Tim asked. “I don’t know. I can’t…”
Before he could think of any more excuses, Jason rushed at him.
Tim’s eyes widened. “Jason!” he screeched as Jason raised his staff over his head and moved to swing it down on his head. Before he could even blink, he felt his own body move to the side and dodge the blow as the staff hit the mat with a dull thump where he’d just been standing.
Tim swallowed, feeling his heart pound heavily in his chest as Jason turned and looked up at him, straightening from his stance and attack. Tim tightened his grip on the wood staff in his hands as he still held it awkwardly against his chest.
“Nice,” Jason said. “Looks like you still have some crime fighter in you even without the memory.”
Tim shook his head. “I really…”
Jason spun the staff in his hand before he caught it in his empty hand, making a small smacking sound.
Tim swallowed.
“Come on, Tim. I know you can do it.” His lips pulled into a grin as his feet spread in a wide stance. “ Just grip the staff with your hands further apart.”
Tim carefully held the staff out in front of him and moved his hands apart.
“That’s it,” Jason said. “Now I’m going to do another head blow and I want you to block it this time.”
“Why are you telling me where you’re going to hit?” Tim asked. “Isn’t that counterproductive.”
“Not when I don’t know how much you’ll actually remember.”
Without another warning, Jason rushed forward and swung his bo over his head. Tim squeaked and raised the bo over his head, Jason’s staff hitting his and sending a jolt through his arms from the blow. He let out a breath, chest heaving even though he hadn’t done more than dodge and block.
Jason smiled at him and raised his staff, stepping back. “Good. Glad to see you still have some spunk in you. Now it’s your turn to attack.”
Tim shifted uneasily on his feet, feeling the weight of the staff in his hands.
“Just aim for a hit wherever you want,” Jason said. “Head, shoulders, side, legs, take your pick.”
Tim looked over his form, trying to decide what the best place to attack would be. He settled on Jason’s side and ran forward, movements with his staff awkward as he tried to swing around to hit his side.
Jason blocked the blow easily, his foot slid out and caught Tim’s foot, offsetting his balance to where he crashed down onto his back on the mat, forcing the air from his lungs. Tim stared up at the cavern ceiling high above him. Jason came into view and grinned.
“Nice try,” he said.
“I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose,” Tim said as he struggled to sit up.
“I can’t help but indulge myself when you’d normally be able to beat me,” he chuckled.
Tim stared. “I’d normally be able to beat you?” he asked, taking Jason’s offered hand to be pulled to his feet.
“Not every time. Our wins and losses are pretty evenly divided.
“That’s a low blow, taking advantage then,” Tim said, stepping back from him. “I’m going to remember that one.”
Jason grinned. “Are you now?”
Tim nodded and spread his feet, trying to mimic what he’d seen Jason do earlier. The staff was still shaky in his grip and he felt awkward, but it was slowly starting to feel more natural.
Jason raised an eyebrow and Tim stepped forward, swinging the staff towards Jason’s shoulder. He blocked and Tim pulled it back, using the lower half of the staff to aim for Jason’s leg. He was blocked again and Tim narrowed his eyes, determined to land at least one blow.
“Jason what are you doing?”
The unfamiliar voice pulled Tim from his thoughts and his foot caught on his other heel as he tried to step forward and he would’ve crashed to the mat if Jason’s hand hadn’t caught him under the stomach. He rolled in the grip until his back was pressed against Jason’s chest.
Tim looked up and found a stoic man standing at the edge of the mat. His arms were crossed across his chest.
“We were just having a little fun,” Jason protested.
“How can you expect Tim to spar when he doesn’t remember anything?” he asked.
Jason sighed. “He’s fine.”
“No more sparring,” he said before turning on his heel.
Jason sighed as they watched him go.
“Who was that?” Tim asked.
“Bruce,” Jason grumbled. “Aka Batman.”
“Oh,” Tim said, voice small.
He became aware of their position and straightened, Jason’s hold falling away from him. Jason took the staff from his hand and moved over to the racks, hanging them both back up.
“Guess we’ll have to find something else to do and call this a draw for now,” Jason said, forcing a smile on his face.
Tim nodded, shivering a little as he noticed the lack of warmth around him and how cold the cavern actually was.
I wrote this forever ago and totally blanked on posting it, probably because I knew even then that this would become something longer if I let it. Which I’m not. Unless random inspiration strikes for something that would be perfect in this AU, it’s staying as a series of short, interconnected fics. …famous last words…
~*~
Tim stares in horror at the absolute mess in front of him. His quarters are usually a disaster area, but this is crossing the line into a possible biohazard. He wonders how on earth this happened, but he then saw the red mask icon flashing on his holoscreen.
JASON.
It has to be.
His eyes dart down to the floor again, to the happily burbling little housebot dripping coffee (precious coffee) and coffee grinds everywhere, tracking it back and forth across his floor and smearing dirt, dust, and who knows what else everywhere. For such a cute looking robot, it is currently a pain in his ass.
Tim stalks into the room and places a foot in front of the droid, stopping it long enough to hit the emergency override switch on the back. The lights on the droid fade as it turns off.
Standing straight, he glares at the screen. The mask has disappeared.
Not for the first time, Tim wonders what the station’s AI has against him. Ever since he arrived on site as the new program manager and systems director, JASON has more than gone out of his way to make his life miserable. He’s never gone beyond the limits of his programming, no, but he’s shown a level of creativity in petty vindictiveness that far exceeds any other AI Tim has ever worked with.
When he downloaded JASON’s program onto a private computer to review after the first few incidents, he didn’t find anything too out of the norm. A few deviations in code, but nothing to raise any alarms. If anything, they seemed more like some creative license by his original designer, Dick Grayson, something to give the AI a bit of personality.
“JASON,” Tim calls out, waiting and resisting the urge to tap his foot. The AI will wait as long as his programming allows to answer.
“Tim,” the synthesized voice finally replies. Seriously, the man who designed JASON and gave him his voice ought to be shot. The low baritone with the slight rasp is borderline pornographic as far as Tim is concerned.
“Why was Little Red running outside his normal cleaning cycle? And where did he get the coffee from?” Both are questions the AI should answer. JASON knows everything that goes on in this station; his sensors are everywhere.
Instead of replying directly, a systems diagnostic of the housebot appears on the screen. The view splits in half a moment later and a picture of a coffeepot is posted next to the diagnostics.
Tim resists the urge to growl because these are technically answers within the scope of JASON’s programming. No one else has these problems with the AI. He knows. He’s asked. The station commander, Bruce Wayne, even says JASON is the most intuitive AI he’s ever worked with. This is why he snatched Tim out of the Academy as soon as he became eligible for active duty. Commander Wayne flat out told him that it was his work with AIs that caught his attention in the first place.
He came on board the Dark Knight with all the enthusiasm of a green noob.
JASON smacked that out of him faster than he could blink.
So here they are, three months in and Tim already wishing a transfer was possible.
“JASON, I want you to tell me verbally why Little Red is running outside his cycle and how he got into my coffee stash. Nowhere in his programming are there instructions for him to brew coffee.” Tim should know. He designed the little housebot after all. He handles his coffee himself.
The red mask icon flashes a few times before JASON finally replies. Perhaps Tim is reading too much into this, but the AI sounds sulky. “Little Red’s programing was changed at 0327 this morning. At 1830, the new program started. Part of that program included instructions to make coffee.”
Now he’s getting somewhere. “I was asleep at the time Little Red’s programing was changed. Who did it?”
JASON sounds downright petulant as he replies. “I did.”
“Why?”
Silence.
Tim’s eyes narrow. “JASON. Why did you change Little Red’s programming?”
More silence.
“Don’t make me use my override.”
“You’re here to replace me,” the AI finally replies.
Tim can’t help but gape at the blunt response. “What? No! Why would you think that?”
“You replaced Dick. He designed me. Made me what I am. When he left to go to the Titan, he left me here. Why else would Bruce bring you here other than to replace me?”
Okay. Okay, Tim can handle this. He can. Just…he needs to get over his mind being blown because he’s never worked with an AI that has developed its own sense of self-preservation before. And he can’t forget the abandonment issues. Wow.
“JASON, Commander Wayne brought me here to keep you running as you are. Perhaps to make my own enhancements as I see fit, but I’m mostly here because he likes you so much that he wants you to have the best care possible if Captain Grayson isn’t here to do it himself.”
The AI is silent for a time as he ponders this. Tim’s fingers itch to get into JASON’s program right now to see what areas are firing off, just like in a human brain.
“You’re not here to replace me?”
“No,” Tim replies in what he hopes is a reassuring voice. “You’re an asshole, but you’re the most incredible AI I’ve ever seen. I only want to make you better.”
“Fine. But if your idea of better is that brainless little bot, then you and I are gonna have words.” With that, the red mask disappears from the console.
Tim heaves a massive sigh of relief. He’s finally gotten through to JASON. Sort of. Perhaps things will get better between them going forward.
As he starts cleaning up the mess Little Red left (he’ll need to take the bot apart and clean it too), he mentally composes a message to send to Dick Grayson. Namely, he wants to know what the hell he did to make the AI such a, well, such a dick.
GLORIAW translated my sad soulmate/ABO into Chinese! I have no idea how it reads (I know several languages, but Chinese is sadly not one of them), but I’m told that it’s the equivalent of 50k when translated? Yiiiiiikes. :S
Day 1:Magic // Sugar Daddy Day 2: Time Travel // Heist Day 3: Viking // Bare Skin Day 4: College // Vegas Wedding Day 5: FREE PROMPT DAY Day 6: Mafia // Bodyswap Day 7: ABO // Nightmares & Hallucinations Day 8: Urban Fantasy // Blood Oath
You may notice that, unlike previous JayTimWeeks, this one has eight days instead of seven. No one ever really wants the magic to end, and so we decided to stretch it out, keeping the top 14 prompts while using the Free Prompt Day as a mid-week breather.
Similar to previous events, we have assigned two prompts for each day; feel free to choose one or incorporate both into your creative works. We’ll be sending out reminders leading up to JayTimWeek: Themes & AU’s and we’re looking forward to all of your amazing submissions!
Things to note:
-The official tags for posts are #jaytimweekfall2018 or #jaytimweek -Please be sure to check out our RULES -If you have any questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to reach out!
Thank you so much for your continued support and excitement! We’re looking forward to another wonderful week!!
Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown
Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Jason Todd, Alpha Tim Drake, asexual jason todd, yes you read that right folks, an ace omega, how does that work you ask?, well let’s find out, Introspection, lots of chatting about wants and needs, Relationship Negotiation, Jason masturbating his way though self-discovery, Tim helps, Tim is really sweet, almost too sweet but whatever, Jason is baffled by allosexuals
Words: 10626
Summary: He’s been trying this new thing where he lets himself have what he wants without over-analyzing every little thing or what his desires say about him as a person. If he wants to spend a day literally doing nothing but reading young adult dystopian novels, that’s fine. If he wants to ride out to the country and sit on the side of a dirt road next to a cornfield, that’s fine. If he wants to spend an hour teasing himself before he jacks off, that’s fine. It’s also fine if he wants to go two months without touching himself. It doesn’t make him weird.
He’s been taking each day as it comes and learning about himself, learning that he’s different from what everyone thinks of as Jason Todd. Different from what he thought was Jason Todd.
s/o to aces who like to be sensually intimate with their partners
s/o to aces who like to be sexually intimate with their partners
s/o to aces who aren’t “perfect” asexuals, you are still valid and you are all ace af
I am really not trying to be rude, I just want to understand!! If you enjoy being sexually intimate with a partner, how are you asexual? Sorry if this comes across as offensive, I’m just interested to know!
There are other reasons than specifically wanting to have sex for the sake of having sex. For example, some asexuals want to please their non-asexual partners, and it isn’t necessarily uncomfortable for them, they just don’t specifically desire that particular action. Like, asexuals can still dig the feeling of sexual stimulation, since it is meant to be pleasurable.
It’s like, if there’s cake on the table, but you don’t particularly want cake at that time, or you don’t really care for cake, you can still choose to eat it because even if cake isn’t your favourite or you’re quite full already, it still tastes fine, and your best friend is eating some with you.
Alternatively, it’s possible to sort of “trade favours”; instead of sexually pleasing their asexual partner who is disinterested in receiving sexually, the non-asexual party might cuddle, kiss and otherwise be physically affectionate with their partner while making love. This’d still count as sexual intimacy, even though only one person in the act is - hopefully - orgasming.
Some asexuals see sex as a way to bond with their partners. Again, the act isn’t specifically interesting to them, but it works as a means to an end - through it, they get to feel closer to their partner.
Asexuality is the absence of sexual attraction, the “I want to bang that” trigger that most people have in response to potential sexual partners. Not the absence of sexual activity itself, which would be celibacy - the choice to not engage in sex, the act. An asexual can have sex and not feel that specific type of attraction to their partner, as attraction is passive and not based in active choice. It doesn’t mean that that partner is disgusting to them, either; they may well be aesthetically attractive to the asexual person (the same way you can appreciate a beautiful statue or a painting without becoming sexually aroused by viewing it) and the asexual person may well desire physical intimacy with them, such as hugging, kissing, cuddling and holding hands. Since not all asexuals are inherently repulsed by sex but merely disinterested in it by default, turning that desire for general closeness into sexual activity where it provides fulfillment of some form to both parties isn’t necessarily paradoxical.
Someone once brought up a fairly good point regarding this subject; non-asexual people also sometimes hook up and have sex with people that aren’t specifically attractive to them. It can still be perfectly consensual and satisfy the needs of both parties, despite the fact that the base attraction wasn’t there. For example, a person who just wants to have sex with someone might go along with a partner they would not otherwise choose, but who simply happens to be available and ready to do the deed with them. Alternatively, a woman might seek to have a baby, and have sex with a partner solely for that purpose, and whether the partner chosen is sexually attractive to them or not isn’t a big factor in the choice. (Plenty of asexual women choose to have sex to have children.) There are multiple reasons to have sex even when you’re not sexually attracted. Specifically for asexuals, the factor of having a non-asexual partner is usually a big motivator to have sex, and other reasons like the ones I explored above may additionally pop up to support that decision.
Finally, some asexuals just really dig orgasms. Most people do. We just don’t have that special someone we wish was delivering them to us, and largely prefer to take care of our own. But when you are in a relationship and that kind of comes as a package deal, some asexuals don’t feel like it’s a bad trade, or at least aren’t violently opposed to the idea. I think most asexuals who do choose to have sex are indifferent to it - it’s not their favourite thing in the world, but it takes care of business.
Best explanation EVER.
Now THIS is the ace discourse I’m here for. Yes, yes, yes! 🙏
Tim’s
office is a lot like Tim, Jason muses; an organized chaos of brilliant ideas
jotted messily on scattered papers. He knocks on the open door and leans
against the doorway, lips twitching at the fringe of Tim’s hair sticking up.
Tim glances from his computer, squinting and blinking in a way that suggests
Jason’s the first thing he’s seen in a while that’s not projected on a screen.
There’s that tug again, in Jason’s chest—always so sudden and
achy, but leaves him exasperated and fond. A flutter of thoughts that feels new
and fresh around its edges, but boulders Jason over with old feeling of
stone-hard certainty.
Tim’s always had a bad habit of beating his worries out with
exhaustion.
“Hey,” Tim says. “What’s up? How was your session with J’onn?”
“Good.” Jason taps his forehead. “Almost stepped on a landmine and
got thrown into something nasty, but we made it out alright. It surprised even
J’onn. Apparently, I got a lot of those—a bonus from the Lazarus Pit. J’onn
says I’m prickly.”
Tim’s eyebrows rises. “That’s…alarming.”
“But here I am, unscathed,” Jason says cheerily, striding forward.
“For a given value of unscathed. I was wondering if you’re free for a couple of
minutes.”
Tim spins his chair to face Jason, and folds his hand on his
midriff. “Yeah, sure,” Tim says. “What for?”
Even when he’s sitting down he’s slouching. Jason shouldn’t find
it as endearing as he does. Somehow, Jason knows his posture is something he
bugs Tim about. Ergonomics is very important, and Tim’s already pretty short as
it is. At this rate, his back will be creaking before he’s thirty.
Tim rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“I can hear you scolding me in my head,” Tim says, grinning. “Out
of all the things that would break my back, I hardly think—Jay. What are you up
to?”
Jason take Tim’s head in his hand, and he turns his face sideways,
examining him, jotting down the position of Tim’s freckles. He lifts his head
up and down, as if testing its weight, and rubs his thumbs right under Tim’s
eyes where his bags puffs out.
“I don’t know if you look more like a raccoon or a panda,” Jason
says, huffing.
“Panda,” Tim says. “I’m cute, cuddly, and I definitely don’t live
in a garbage can. Please don’t look in the snack drawer.”
“God, you’re ridiculous,” Jason says. “You need a break.”
“I tell myself that every day.”
He taps one cheek in reprimand. “I’m serious, Tim,” Jason says.
“What’s up in that brain of yours? I won’t know if you never tell me. Working
yourself into exhaustion isn’t a good way to run away from your problems.
Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?”
“You used to?” Tim says, and he sounds a little hopeful. “And then
you’d bully me to bed by threatening to triple encode all my Star Trek
episodes.”
Jason allows himself a smug smile, because even with five years of
memory loss, he’s still got the magic touch when comes gadgets, tech, and
algorithms.
“Leverage, Tim,” Jason says. “Always good to have in a
relationship.”
“Wow.”
“Anyway,” Jason declares, “I want to try something. Hold still.”
Then Jason leans down and kisses him. It floods him; his smell,
the texture of his lips, the way his chest constricts hard enough to blur his
vision. Jason can’t lie and say he hasn’t been curious to know what it feels
like to kiss Tim, but he didn’t know it would feel like being washed under a
wave of giddiness, warmth, and a little sadness.
It was only for a second, and when they pull away, Tim tugs Jason
onto his lap. Jason carefully slides on, careful not to crush him, and Tim
rests his head against Jason’s chest.
“A bitcoin for your thoughts?” Tim asks.
“Bitcoins?” Jason asks. “Really?”
“It’s legal,” Tim defends, then he tacks on after a moment’s
silence. “…in Gotham.”
Jason can’t really tell him off because last time he checked, he’s
still technically a crime boss. So he laughs and rests one cheek on
top of Tim’s head.
“I want to remember,” Jason says. “I want to remember so bad, and
I’m annoyed that I don’t remember. I don’t even know why I miss you so much
when you’re only one room over, or even why everything’s just funnier and
brighter and better with you there. I don’t even know why I care about
you more than I care about myself sometimes. But I do.”
There’s a small pause as Tim turns face into Jason and Jason can
feel his mumble against his chest.
“I miss you too, Jay,” Tim says, letting himself have this one
small moment, before shuddering in a breath. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.
You’re trying. That’s enough.”
Jason doesn’t want to ask Tim about what happens if he doesn’t
remember. He doesn’t want to imagine what happens if the whole situation
becomes too much—or more accurately, if the Jason-now becomes
not enough when compared to the old-Jason that knows exactly why and
how to love Tim the way he used to.
He doesn’t want to
imagine himself being so lacking that Tim leaves.
He doesn’t dwell on it too long. Tim won’t leave him. Tim loves
him. The fact that he stayed and continues to stay is proof enough.
Jason will just try harder.
He presses a kiss to the top of Tim’s head in a silent thank you
and holds him closer, praying that he’ll never stop being enough for Tim.
GASP. Why did you not tell me you were writing more amnesiafic?? You know how weak I am for them, Nani, how could you?!! THIS IS BEAUTY AND PERFECTION. Like Jason, my world is a little funnier/brighter/better now, only it’s because more (wonderful, perfect, slightly bittersweet) amnesiafic is in the world instead of Tim though I wouldn’t say no to one of him too >.> I am totally here for if you want to continue this (please continue this). I loves me some slightly sad and sickeningly sweet boys-in-love-but-one’s-forgotten-and-has-to-slowly-learn-to-love-again.
It’s only 6:20 in the morning but my day cannot possibly improve anymore! You’ve ruined it for me, dang you.
Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Catlad, Secret Relationship Summary:
Selina is ruining Tim’s life and no one understands.
(A Tim-as-Stray AU dealing with the BatCat engagement.)
When you low-key want to try writing something short before you really dive into your next big writing project but at the same time you’re afraid if you start a new thing it’ll take on a life of its own because that’s what happened the last 3 times you tried this.
This may have turned into a Stray/Catlad AU because I got inspired and now Selina is trying to ruin Tim’s life and no one understands.
I blame late-night talk of ‘90s anime and refuse to take responsibility for this.
Man, this goes so much faster when I write it directly into the computer instead of writing 15 different versions of every scene into notebooks and then picking and choosing the bits I like best to type up. (Also when @chibinightowl slaps me down and tells me no when I vaguely think about writing another +20k epic.)
Honestly, I don’t know how I keep ending up with fics centered around weddings when I actually really dislike writing the damned things.
I do this thing where if i have to go to a family event where I will be expected to be a girl I pretend I am a SPY and I am IN DISGUISE AS A TEEN GIRL and my mission is to EXTRACT INFORMATION FROM MY GRANDPARENTS without giving away my real identity. works every time.
your dress and makeup is now a DISGUISE
your ‘birth name’ is now an ALIAS
getting told by your parents to be nice and not yell at anyone being racist is MISSION BRIEFING
your entire extended family are now FOREIGN DIGNITARIES and you gotta make it thru the evening without being discovered as a RADICAL SPY
carrying a small water pistol and one of those fake-lipstick pens in your purse helps to get in the zone. the best part of being a spy is the nifty gadgets everyone knows that.
BONUS if you have to bring a friend of another gender with you to pretend to be your boyfriend. you are both PARTNER SPIES and one of you has to be the cranky but soft-hearted veteran and the other has to be the endearingly-assholeish rookie.
Seems like actually a great way to deal with dysphoria
Shout-out to all the spies who are faced with the world’s most difficult missions.
This is the best coping strategy I have ever seen.
Bringing this back for pride month.
i got something to tell y’all spies but first, the cone of silence
*leans in close* good luck. the agency is proud of you.
Supercarrier: fandom flagship. Everybody and their dog ships it. The fandom is glutted with artwork and fic. You cannot escape this ship.
Dreadnought: massively popular. Nearly everybody ships it. You can, with dedication, in theory, reach the end of the AO3 archive for the ship’s tag, but it’ll take a long time.
Cruiser: pretty popular ship. Not everyone ships it, but everyone knows about it. Has a good amount of fic/art, and probably multiple ask blogs.
Frigate: just plain popular. Feels like it could use more fanworks. New people to the fandom might not know about it, but they’ll stumble across it sooner rather than later.
Gunboat: bit of a rarepair. It might have an ask blog or two. A couple big name fans ship it. Probably only takes a few weeks to get through the entire AO3 backlog, and one new fic gets added during that time.
Tugboat: rarepair. Almost never seen except as a side pairing to a more popular ship. You can usually get through everything on AO3 in a matter of days. You’ve forgotten what it is to be picky about what you read.
Rowboat: less than a dozen people ship it. You all know each other. You exist in an endless cycle of the same five people desperately producing art and fic and one person who constantly contributes headcanons.
Canoe: you are one of maybe three people who ship it, and there’s a not-insignificant chance you’ve never encountered those other two hypothetical shippers. You spend your days paddling furiously in hopes of keeping the ship afloat, dreaming of the day you upgrade to a rowboat so you can finally rest.
Submarine: Quite a few people ship it, but nobody wants to admit to shipping it. Will randomly appear and throw the other ships into confusion.
Pontoon: that random crossover ship with that one black dress character/trope/fandom everyone will ship with everything else. Has the potential to turn into a massive party until someone gets sick and everyone goes home.
Pedalo: That iconic bizarre crackship whose proponents claim they’re only into it ironically, but secretly they’re all dead serious.
Paging @amythe3lder for the pool noodle definition.
Barge: Not quite seaworthy, but buoyant in both the literal and figurative senses. Someone is always merrily drunktweeting about it at 11pm on Saturday night and then wistfully sobertweeting about it 4 hours later from their kitchen floor. The kind of ship that generates more playlists than fic. Artfully covered in trash and dirty laundry.
Raft: There’s two-to-four people who Ship It Hard and a few others who grab onto the side for safety when there’s drama on their usual flagship.
Barrel: There’s orphaned fic of it. There’s unsigned art of it. There’s headcanon asks on anon. Someone must ship it, but no one knows why or who they are. Your friend got a glimpse once before they ducked back down.
Pool Noodle: It’s just you, kicking your feet. You named the ship and wrote it on your noodle with a big sharpie. You tell people about it and are met with confused blinking. Most of the fics in the tag were either written by you or for you. You are caught between wanting to shout about how lovely life is on this floating scrap of whimsy and fearing that your noodle can’t bear much weight. Or worse, that someone will come over and dunk you, take your noodle and fwhap you on the head with it.
Scuba: Like a submarine, but it’s just you all by your lonesome, exploring the depths, possibly encountering more tentacles than anticipated.
When you low-key want to try writing something short before you really dive into your next big writing project but at the same time you’re afraid if you start a new thing it’ll take on a life of its own because that’s what happened the last 3 times you tried this.
This may have turned into a Stray/Catlad AU because I got inspired and now Selina is trying to ruin Tim’s life and no one understands.
I blame late-night talk of ‘90s anime and refuse to take responsibility for this.
When you low-key want to try writing something short before you really dive into your next big writing project but at the same time you’re afraid if you start a new thing it’ll take on a life of its own because that’s what happened the last 3 times you tried this.
Tim smiled as the breeze ruffled his hair. He’d found a bench under some secluded trees. His eyes shot open when he heard a branch break behind him. He sat forward and looked over his shoulder.
“Sorry,” Jason said, holding up his hands. “You weren’t around the Manor so I wanted to make sure you were doing okay.”
“Oh,” Tim said. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to see what was around the grounds, that’s all.”
Jason nodded. “Find anything interesting? The garden, a bunny, the dead bodies?”
Tim’s eyes widened and he almost said something if a grin hadn’t pulled at Jason’s lips.
“You’re kidding?” Tim asked.
“Yeah,” Jason said, chuckling. He walked around the opposite side of the bench and Tim pulled his legs back, making room for Jason to sit down. He stretched out his legs in front of him and crossed his arms, looking up at the sky.
Tim stared down at his knees and picked at his jeans. He glanced up at Jason who was still resolutely looking up at the sky.
“Did you sleep well?” Jason asked, rolling his head to the side to meet Tim’s eyes and he quickly looked away.
“Yeah,” Tim said. “Thanks…for bringing me to my bed.”
“No problem,” Jason said. “I thought it would be more comfortable than leaving you on the couch.”
“It was, thanks.”
“No need to thank me again,” he chuckled. “Are you hungry? Did you get any breakfast or anything?”
“No thanks, not hungry,” he mumbled.
Jason nodded.
There was silence between them for a minute.
“You want to see something cool?” he asked, leaning forward.
“Something cool?”
Jason nodded and pushed himself from the seat.
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
Tim’s curiosity got the better of him and he swung his legs over the edge of the bench, eagerly following after Jason back to the Manor. They pushed through the back doors and Jason led Tim back through the hallways until they were in a sitting room.
Jason stopped next to a grandfather clock and leaned next to it. Tim furrowed his brow.
“What’s this?” he asked.
Jason smirked and fiddled with the hands of the clock. It swung open to reveal a passage set into the wall that led downwards.
Tim gaped. “What is that?” he asked.
“Something cool,” Jason said and slipped inside. “Come on.”
Tim eagerly followed after him. The stairwell was narrow at first and he braced a hand against the rock as they moved down the steps, his eyes not adjusted to the dim lighting.
Soon enough, it opened up to reveal a much larger cave. Tim froze and looked over the large computer and training equipment. He could also see what looked to be a plane and several other cars and motorcycles.
“Woah,” he breathed.
“See?” Jason said, looking over his shoulder. “I told you it was cool.”
“What is this place?” he asked.
“This is the Cave. It’s where Batman works out of,” Jason said, continuing down the steps.
Tim hurried after him, shoes thumping down the stone steps in his rush to make it to the bottom. He turned in a circle, head tilted upwards as he tried to peer through the darkness to see the top of the cavern.
“This is huge.”
“Yup,” Jason said, walking towards the training equipment. “There’s all kinds of information saved on that computer over there. Highly encrypted stuff, but you were always better at that kind of thing than I was. Over there,” he said pointing, “is Dickhead’s circus stuff.”
“Circus stuff?”
Jason waved his hand. “Trapeze and shit. Dick’s an acrobat. Grew up in the circus, blah, blah, blah.”
“Neat. Can I try?”
Jason froze and looked over his shoulder. “You want to try the trapeze?”
Tim shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious. “Yeah, kinda.”
“Uh, okay. I can see if Dick can give you a lesson later.”
Tim nodded.
“But for now I want to try something else.”
Tim followed after him, stepping onto the large blue mat as Jason reached the racks of practice staffs and other equipment. He pulled two staffs free and turned to Tim with a smile, tossing one through the air, making his eyes widen in shock.
So there has been a bit of “what if humans were the weird ones?” going around tumblr at the moment and Earth Day got me thinking. Earth is a wonky place, the axis tilts, the orbit wobbles, and the ground spews molten rock for goodness sakes. What if what makes humans weird is just our capacity to survive? What if all the other life bearing planets are these mild, Mediterranean climates with no seasons, no tectonic plates, and no intense weather?
What if several species (including humans) land on a world and the humans are all “SCORE! Earth like world! Let’s get exploring before we get out competed!” And the planet starts offing the other aliens right and left, electric storms, hypothermia, tornadoes and the humans are just … there… counting seconds between flashes, having snowball fights, and just surviving.
To paraphrase one of my favorite bits of a ‘humans are awesome’ fiction megapost: “you don’t know you’re from a Death World until you leave it.” For a ton of reasons, I really like the idea of Earth being Space Australia.
Earth being Space Australia
Words cannot express how much I love these posts
Alien: “I’m sorry, what did you just say your comfortable temperature range is?”
Human: “Honestly we can tolerate anywhere from -40 to 50 Celcius, but we prefer the 0 to 30 range.”
Alien: “……. I’m sorry, did you just list temperatures below freezing?”
Human: “Yeah, but most of us prefer to throw on scarves or jackets at those temperatures it can be a bit nippy.”
Other human: “Nah mate, I knew this guy in college who refused to wear anything past his knees and elbows until it was -20 at least.”
Human: “Heh. Yeah everybody knows someone like that.”
Alien: “……. And did you also say 50 Celcius? As in, half way to boiling?”
Human: “Eugh. Yes. It sucks, we sweat everywhere, and god help you if you touch a seatbelt buckle, but yes.”
Alien: “……. We’ve got like 50 uninhabitable planets we think you might enjoy.”
“You’re telling me that you have… settlements. On islands with active volcanism?”
“Well, yeah. I’m not about to tell Iceland and Hawaii how to live their lives. Actually, it’s kind of a tourist attraction.”
“What, the molten rock?”
“Well, yeah! It’s not every day you see a mountain spew out liquid rocks! The best one is Yellowstone, though. All these hot springs and geysers from the supervolcano–”
“You ACTIVELY SEEK OUT ACTIVE SUPERVOLCANOES?”
“Shit, man, we swim in the groundwater near them.”
Sounds like the “Damned” trilogy by Alan Dean Foster.
“And you say the poles of your world would get as low as negative one hundred with wind chill?”
“Yup, with blizzards you cant see through every other day just about.”
“Amazing! when did you manage to send drones that could survive such temperatures?”
“… well, actually…”
“… what?”
“…we kinda……. sent……….. people…..”
“…”
“…”
“…what?”
“we sent-”
“no yeah I heard you I just- what? You sent… HUMANS… to a place one hundred degrees below freezing?”
“y-yeah”
“and they didn’t… die?”
“Well the first few did”
“PEOPLE DIED OF THE COLD AND YOUR SOLUTION WAS TO SEND MORE PEOPLE???!?!?!?”
My new favorite Humans are Weird quote
“PEOPLE DIED OF THE COLD AND YOUR SOLUTION WAS TO SEND MORE PEOPLE?”
aka The History of Russia
aka Arctic Exploration
aka The History of Alaska
Being from Alaska, this was sort of how I felt going to college in the lower 48′s and learned that no one else had been put through a literal survival camp as a regular part of their school curriculum, including but not limited to:
1. Learning to recognize all forms of animal tracks in the wild so you can avoid bears and moose and search out rabbits and other small animals to eat.
2. Extensive swimming and climbing on glacial pieces with competitions to see who could last the longest, followed by a group sit in the sauna so we wouldn’t get hypothermia (no, not kidding, I really did this many times as a kid!)
3. How to navigate using the stars to get back to civilization.
4. How to select the right type of moss from the trees to start a fire with damp wood (because, y’know, you’re in a field of snow. Nothing is dry.)
5. How to carve out a small igloo-like space to sleep in the snow to preserve body heat and reduce the windchill so you won’t freeze to death in the arctic.
“I’m telling you, I don’t think we need to worry about territory conflicts with the humans. You know all those deathtrap hell-worlds in the Argoth Cluster?” “Those worthless rocks? Yeah.” “80% of them are considered ‘resort destinations’ by those freaky little primates.”
“I’m telling you, they terraform for fun!” “Don’t be ridiculous” “No, seriously. Some of their most celebrated cultural loci are built on swamps. They have an entire city that is literally in a body of water. Not, like, an artificial pontoon city, they literally sunk the foundations into water. For Grilp’s sake, they build elaborate structures out of frozen water AND THEN SLEEP IN THEM.” “Dear Thilak. Think we could get them to terraform our moons?” “Psh, they’d probably pay for the privilege.”
Eventually, it occurs to someone that humans are the perfect terraforming shock troops, as it were. They think it’s fun to be sent to horrible planets! They’re really good at surviving and then taming them! All you have to do is sit back and wait until the planet is habitable, and then move there yourself! It’s genius.
It only takes one try before the reality of the situation sets in: human definitions of ‘taming’ and ‘habitable’ are woefully incomplete.
“Why did you not eliminate the venomous plant life?” Grahssk’ti moans, clutching one limb.
“Those?” The human laughs. “Why bother? They’re not that bad. And they eat the mosquitoes.”
Grahssk’ti shudders. The ‘mosquitoes’ are… not to be mentioned. Just one swarm of them caused a landing shuttle to crash three planetary daylights ago.
“And the acid storms? Why did you not warn us of them?”
“I mean, they’re annoying,” the human says, shrugging, “but we figured the cool sunsets made up for it.”
Grahssk’ti flails helplessly. “What about the ten-meter tall Fanged Death Bringers? They can eliminate an entire settlement in under an hour!”
“They’re so cute!” the human says, brightening. “Have you met mine? Her name is Spot!”
Humans are told of some planet or region of space that is considered “completely and utterly inhospitable - it would be folly to try and settle there.”
Without fail, a decent number make it a point to settle there because “Fuck You That’s Why.” It doesn’t matter how uneconomical it is, how difficult the conditions are, how utterly ridiculous it may seem, there will be at least one human who will attempt to do it only because someone else regardless of species says it is improbable or WORSE impossible.
“This moon is still forming as such it is primarily soft - by that I mean most of the magma is close to the surface and-”
‘OH BADASS you mean its like Mustafar right!?!?!?! I’m totally going to build a castle there.’
“What. I mean. There is NO fertile ground there whatsoever. No ecosystem. It is molten rock and minerals only.”
‘Which will make my castle there look METAL AS FUCK am I RIGHT!?!??! Come on. COME ON. I TAUGHT YOU HOW TO FISTBUMP COME ON.’
“….you….you are going to die, you know this right?”
‘I’m getting the feeling you don’t want to come to Lava Castle for some reason?’
“Listen, lad. I’ve built this kingdom up from nothing. When I started here, all there was was molten magma. All those aliens said I was daft to build a castle on a molten planet, but I built it all the same, just to show ‘em. It sank into the magma. So, I built a second one. That sank into the magma. So I built a third one. That spontaneously combusted, turned to ash, then sank into the magma. But the fourth one stayed up. An’ that’s what your gonna get, lad – the strongest castle in this solar system.”
“I’m gonna need for you to explain ‘hurricane parties’ to me again. You humans have the technology to track these apocalyptic storms of wind and rain and predict where on the landmass they’ll hit up to a week in advance. And you…have social gatherings during them?”
“Well yeah, but only up to about Category 3 strength. Then it’s time to pack the car and head inland for most people, although a few hardy souls stick around and ride them out.”
“Oh good. Category 3 is what again? Winds up to 75 kilometers per hour?”
“No no, Category 3 starts at 175 kilometers per hour. You left off the one.”
I’m sure I’ve reblogged some version of this before, but I needed the STRONGEST CASTLE IN THIS SOLAR SYSTEM on my blog.
Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, (except for not really; don’t read this if you want heat cycles and all that), Scenting, Depression, Panic Attacks, Demisexual Tim Drake, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Intersex Omegas, porn in the last chapter, look it’s probably more Mature than Explicit but I’m the worst at figuring this stuff out Summary:
Everyone has a mark-match, someone whose mark will match their own. No matter what, you will always meet your match after your mark comes in and before you die, it’s just a fact of life.
Tim’s mark starts to come in the summer he turns twelve. Less than a week later, his match is dead. He doesn’t meet anyone at all in the time between.
Jason glanced down at where Tim was asleep on his shoulder. They’d finished their first movie forever ago and started a second one. It hadn’t taken long before Tim was dozing and had slid against his shoulder. Jason had kept still so as not to disturb him and even now that he was sitting in silence with a black screen, he still couldn’t find it in himself to shake Tim awake or even try to carry him to his room.
He was most surprised that Tim even felt comfortable enough around him to let himself fall asleep. Although, it could be nothing more than his exhaustion catching up with him after the stressful day he’d had.
“Master Jason.”
He glanced up and found Alfred in the doorway.
“Alfred,” he whispered.
“As loathe as I am sure you are to disturb Master Timothy, I think it would be best if you take him to his room. It is early in the morning and I think it would do both of you good to get a long rest in an actual bed.”
Jason sighed and glanced down at Tim again. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Do not worry about the mess here, I can clean it up. You should get to bed, too.”
“Thank you, Alfred.” Jason turned, careful to keep Tim from jostling against him as he slid his arms underneath his blanket wrapped body. Tim moved easily and Jason was sure that if he didn’t have amnesia, his eyes would be snapping open at the first feeling of movement and he would’ve slammed Jason through the table.
He held him close as he eased off the couch and walked towards the door and up the stairs. The rest of the house was quiet except for the ticking of one of the clocks, but he didn’t expect anything else from a house full of vigilantes. Dick was probably asleep so he wouldn’t be running through the halls making noise.
The door to Tim’s room was still open as they’d left it and Jason slipped inside the empty room. He didn’t bother pulled the blanket back since Tim was already wrapped in one. He carefully set Tim down on the bed, making sure his head was resting on the pillow and his limbs weren’t bent in any weird way to cause discomfort.
Jason took a step back. It took him longer than it should’ve to convince his feet to move and leave the room behind. He shut the door gently behind him and walked down to his room, pushing inside.
He walked over to his bed and fell face down onto it, groaning into the blanket. Once he was tired of feeling nearly suffocated, he rolled onto his back and splayed his arms out from himself. He halfway wondered how long it would take before Tim would finally remember everything. It would probably be soon. Maybe even once Tim woke up in his bed.
Jason sighed and moved more fully onto the bed, resting diagonally across it. He turned onto his side and let the exhaustion finally make itself known and pull at him until he gave in and let himself sleep.
~~
Tim stared at Jason’s door. He’d already raised and lowered his hand twice, wanting to knock, but being afraid of disturbing Jason. He sighed and hunched his shoulders, turning away from the door towards the stairs. He stepped down them carefully, afraid one of them would creak loudly and get him in trouble like he was a kid who was sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night for a snack.
The Manor was so different from the few hours he’d spent in Jason’s apartment. It hadn’t been noisy, but he could still hear the sounds of other people and city life around them instead of feeling like he was cut off from everything.
He peered down the separate hallways when he’d made it to the bottom of the stairs. He bit his lip, wondering which way would get him to a doorway that led to the grounds.
“Ah, Master Timothy.”
Tim jumped and whirled around at the voice.
Alfred smiled and held up his hands. “My apologies for scaring you. It is not often something like that happens in this household.”
“It’s, uh…it’s alright,” Tim said, still feeling a little shaky at the surprise.
“I’m glad to see that you’re up and doing well. Is there something that you need or can I assist with?”
“I was hoping to look around the grounds and wanted to see what was behind the Manor,” he said softly.
“Ah, of course. Right this way, Master Timothy,” Alfred said walking past him down the hallway he’d originally moved away from.
Tim hurried after him and kept close to his back. They turned several corners before they reached a back sitting room that had large double doors set into the wall. Alfred pulled one of the doors open and stood to the side.
“There you are, Master Timothy. Feel free to take as long as you like walking and exploring. These doors will stay unlocked so you are free to return at any time.”
“Thanks Alfred,” he said, slipping past him and through the door. He heard the door shut behind him and hurried down the steps, only slowing down when he felt he was far enough from the house to avoid any other surprises.
The grass was soft underneath his feet and the morning dew had long dried. Tim hadn’t checked the time so he wasn’t sure how late into the day it was and the thick clouds and smog covering the sky didn’t offer any help in the matter.
The grounds were entirely fenced in even as it extended far behind the Manor. Tim could see several gardens and what looked to be benches or swings set towards the back of the property. He let his feet carry him across the grass, taking his time to enjoy the fresh air and the freedom of being outside. It let him forget about his amnesia for a few moments and he felt no more important than a person enjoying a mid-day walk.
He smiled, hoping he could hold onto the feeling for just a little bit longer.
In an effort to extricate myself out of the deep, dark, dank cave that is the marvel cinematic universe (or just marvel in general) for more than two minutes, here is a list of jaytim fics that I recently read, enjoyed and or generally love under the read more.
A research tip from a friendly neighborhood librarian!
I want to introduce you to the wonderful world of subject librarians and Libguides.
I’m sure it’s common knowledge that scholars and writers have academic specialties. The same is true for subject librarians! Most libraries use a tool called Libguides to amass and describe resources on a given topic, course, work, person, etc. (I use them for everything. All hail Libguides.) These resources can include: print and ebooks, databases, journals, full-text collections, films/video, leading scholars, data visualizations, recommended search terms, archival collections, digital collections, reliable web resources, oral histories, and professional organizations.
So, consider that somewhere out there in the world, there may be a librarian with a subject specialty on the topic you’re writing on, and this librarian may have made a libguide for it.
Because you’re searching library collections, you won’t have access to all the content in the guides, and there will probably be some link rot (dead links), but you can still request resources through your own library with interlibrary loan, or even request that your library purchase the resources! Even without the possibility of full-text access, libguides can give you the words, works, people, sites, and collections to improve your research.
Search [your topic] + libguide and see what you get!
This is…amazing. I am angry that I didn’t know about this until now. Now I can ~academically~ indulge my fascination with the 1918 flu pandemic? When I have organic chem homework and a lab report due tomorrow? I both love this and hate this.
i feel like the most important piece of wisdom i can impart on teenagers is that no one–no one–knows what the fuck they’re doing
my brother is 26 years old, makes $200k a year, and just bought a house with his fiance. he’s the success story you hear about but never actually meet in person, but it all happened by accident. he wanted to go to college for clarinet performance, but he got rejected from all the top schools. so he decided to major in physics instead, and then went on to get a doctorate to put off being an adult for a few more years. but then he ended up dropping out halfway through the program and accepting a job with google as a software engineer. so to reiterate: my brother majored in something he was not interested in, and then he got a job that had nothing to do with his degree.
he isn’t successful because he had some master plan he followed, he just stumbled around blindly until something worked out. and that’s what we’re all doing–i majored in political science and now i do customer service for a company that makes industrial-sized gas detection monitors. the marketing director at my company has a degree in biology, and my mom has an MBA and works at a middle school. no one knows what they’re doing, we’re all just trying different things until something works out.
so if you don’t have a plan, that’s fine. most of us don’t. and even those of us who do, don’t usually end up doing the thing they thought they would. it’s okay to relax and let life carry you wherever it’s gonna carry you. because even though a lot of us don’t end up doing the thing we wanted, most of us end up happy anyway.
I’ve been thinking about this post since I made it a few hours ago, and I realized that I literally don’t know anyone who’s doing what they thought they’d be doing at this point in their life. I know a girl that has a degree in neuroscience and works in a restaurant (and makes quite a bit more money than I do, might I add), and a guy who wanted to be a parole officer but is now a security guard. I know people who wanted to be lawyers but ended up not having the grades for law school. I have a friend who’s 24 and just finished her bachelor’s, and two friends who decided to go to grad school because the idea of joining the adult world terrified them.
When I was seventeen, I was 100% sure that I was going to get a job as a bureaucrat and save the world. When I was a 21-year-old recent college grad, I found out that it’s impossible to get a government job unless you know someone. So I gave up and found something else. I know my teenage self would be disappointed if she could see where I’m at, but you know what? I don’t care. Because teenage me was an idiot. She didn’t know anything about the world or how it worked, and she couldn’t have possibly predicted the curveballs that life would throw at her. And because I don’t know a single person who’s doing the thing they wanted to do when they were teenagers.
I know a thousand people who aren’t where they thought they’d be, and zero people who are following the path they set out for themselves. All of us are confused and all of us are scared, and it’s okay if you are too.
Honestly thank u, i needed to hear this again
I majored in history with a minor in English, did two semesters of grad school planning to be a librarian, then dropped out and became a graphic designer. More often than not I spend my days getting paid to do something I love.
The all-time BEST story of doing-something-they-don’t-have-a-degree-in I’ve ever heard was my cousin, who majored in theatrical lighting, then went to work for various computer companies. My cousin? One of the founders of LinkedIn.
Most employers won’t care what you majored in. They care that you stuck with something long enough to see it through and get the degree and, most importantly, that you have the skills they’re looking for.
Tim screamed, struggling to break free of the grasp as he kicked his legs in front of him.
“Wait, Tim! Woah, woah!” the person behind him continued to protest.
“Tim!”
His terror diminished slightly at the sound of Jason’s voice.
“Dick, what the fuck are you doing? Let go of him.”
The arms around him disappeared. A hand wrapped around his bicep and pulled him against a hard chest. Tim looked up and found Jason looking down at him. He finally found himself relaxing, daring a look over his shoulder at the other man who was pouting at Jason.
“Come on, Timmy. You weren’t lost in thought were you?” he asked, turning to him again.
Tim flinched back, pressing closer against Jason’s side. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
“He’s got amnesia, Dickwad. He doesn’t remember who you are.”
“Then why does he get to be so chummy with you?” he accused.
“Because I found him and he knows who I am, that’s why,” Jason shot back.
“Come on Tim,” Dick pleaded. “I’m your big brother.”
Tim stared at him, not making a move to get any closer. Dick’s shoulders sagged. He turned and trudged from the room and Tim peeked around Jason to make sure he was gone.
“You feeling okay, Tim?” Jason asked.
He looked up at him and nodded.
“I was going to head down and watch a movie. Did you want to come with me?”
Tim nodded again and Jason pulled him from the room. They headed downstairs and Jason set him up on one of the plush couches.
“Here,” he said, handing him the remote. “You can flip through all the movies we have saved on the T.V. I’m going to grab a snack from the kitchen. You want something to drink?”
Tim nodded again.
“Any preferences?”
He shook his head.
Jason sighed and walked from the room. Tim watched him go before he started flipping through the titles. He didn’t recognize anything he was seeing so he wasn’t sure which ones were good or not. He tucked his legs underneath him and pulled on the plush blanket that was resting over the back of the couch.
He wrapped it around his shoulders, eyes darting from one movie still to the next. He finally settled on something that looked fantastical and adventurous.
“You find anything yet?” Jason asked as he pushed through the door, packages and bottles of drinks loaded into his arms.
Tim nodded and pointed at the screen. Jason squinted and nodded.
“Yeah that looks like a good one,” he said. He passed one of the bottles of soda off to Tim. He set a bag of chips on the table in front of them and took the seat next to Tim, balancing a package of oreos in his own lap. He twisted of the cap of his bottle and took a long gulp.
Tim played the movie and pulled the edges of the blanket tighter around his shoulders. The sound of ripping cellophane was loud next to him and he glanced over at Jason who was opening the oreos. He pulled one out and bit it in half before he held out the cookies to Tim.
He nodded and reached out of the blanket for a cookie, nibbling on it in the comfort of his blanket. His eyes focused on the screen and he watched as the world within began to unfold and the beginnings of the story came together.
He felt content and surrounded by warmth, the scare he’d had only moments ago already slipping from his mind. He felt a nudge against him and glanced over at where Jason was holding the oreos out again. His eyes were focused on the movie and he wasn’t looking at Tim. Tim reached out and plucked two more cookies from the plastic tray. He bit into the next one to hide his smile.
He snuggled deeper into his blanket, content to lose himself in the movie and forget for a moment he was living a life he knew nothing about.
this pen was inked with the promise of you - outtake #1
I was totally going to try and finish the epilogue for today, but 1) like all good smut, it required a 1k build-up before it could get to the actual smut; 2) I didn’t start writing it until Monday (whoops); 3) it’s been a long time since I’ve written this kind of thing and I’m a bit rusty.
So instead have an outtake! This comes right after the makeout scene and was the original ending to the story before @chibinightowl got her paws on the fic and said I needed a real ending. :\
—
They make it down for lunch, eventually. No one comments on their joined hands, Tim unwilling to lose that small bit of contact, though Damian does make a disgusted noise and pointedly shift his chair around so he doesn’t have to look at either Tim or his brother.
The duke just smiles. “You’ll of course do the right thing and ask Tim’s guardian for his hand before proposing,” he tells Jason.
Jason glares, squeezing Tim’s hand tightly in his. “Screw you, old man. We’ll wait until he’s of age and then elope.”
“A sound plan,” Lady Selina says. “We would’ve done that except Bruce said we had to have the ceremony if I wanted the gorgeous dress.”
Jason looks thoughtful, then turns to study Tim. “You know, you would look awfully pretty in a dress.”
“I’m not wearing a dress, Jason.”
“It is traditional omega wedding garb,” Jason says.
“Wait, since when is Drake an omega?” Damian demands even as his father nearly falls out of his chair.
Tim sighs. He doesn’t know why he ever thought he wanted to be part of a pack. It’s just one drama after another.
World building is important in any setting. There are places, such as fantasy literature where it can become the difference between a believable world and an unbelievable one. Suspension of disbelief is often a critical part to stories.
Many fantasy books take place during times of war, or revolution or even a fall of a corrupt empire. I love reading these sorts of stories, as many people do. Power structures can be complex. They can be used to create tension and drama between characters - take for instance the hero versus the corrupt government troupe in fiction such as The Hunger Games, Harry Potter or even more traditional fantasies such as Tigana ( by Guy Gavriel Kay) or The Wheel of Time series (by Robert Jordan). As a reader it can be compelling to follow these stories. For writers though, it can seem daunting to go into the details of shaping a believable power structure. Here are some basic tips for creating one.
There are four crucial factors to any power structure. These are as follows:
1. Military - this includes the size of the army, the types of technology used (guns or swords? navy or land army?), the basic structure of the army (is it highly regimented like the Romans? What are the different groups within the army? How are they divided - by technology, skills or social status?). Another important question here is why has the military developed in this way? The Roman military, for example, grew out of competition with other Italian states. The opposition is equally important here - who were/are they within your story? Apply the above questions just as much to them, because empires and other structures are influenced by the world around them. The military can be the reason an empire begins in the first place. The military should also play a role in sustaining the power structure/empire. It doesn’t have to be the strongest factor by any means. It may even become the downfall of the structure in the end.
2. Economy - How is your power structure or empire funded? Does this change over time? Does your empire take part in internal or external trade? Is trade important to the running of the empire? Resources such as crops, fertile land or people are also a part of this and influences the larger actions (such as conquest) your structure takes towards other countries. Trade can be a form of control and influence as well, even outside of the structure’s territory. In terms of story, a lot of decisions that are made involve trade or economic reasons - no one wants to get on the wrong side of someone who controls valuable resources or trade with other entities. The British Empire was based mainly on trade and this insured a global influence even as it declined in actual power.
3. Administration: The system of government and the way it manages itself is important to know. Is it a traditional monarchy or a democracy? How is leadership decided? How is power delegated throughout the larger administration? Hierarchy? One person can’t do or know everything. In terms of empire and conquest this is equally important. Does the empire recruit the local elites from conquered areas to administer to the general public, like the Romans? If your story is set in the outskirts of your empire, this could effect the outcome of the story - local elites might enjoy the power they have gained through an alliance with the larger empire and thus be unwilling to revolt against it. What other ways does your power structure control its territory? Does it use culture, or a set language to spread out into new territory? What kind of empire is your empire? Is it land based (only conquering territories linked by land) or maritime (navy focused with overseas territory)?
4. Culture: How does your power structure interact with its subjects? Even in a small area, different ethnic groups exist, so what unites all of them together? Are they all united, or is there groups of people the power structure leaves out? Have they always been left out deliberately or have these groups formed over time?How does the the government and the people from inside the empire view outsiders and their culture? Does this influence your story or characters? Do negative stereotypes or different language create a barrier between your character and others? In newly conquered areas is the empire’s language, laws and social ideals endorsed to locals or is it forced upon them? Is religion important to how the empire works or interacts? For example, before war do the gods need to show approval for the empire’s commanders? What about clashes of religion with other areas? Where do cultures intersect? Is your empire influenced by an older power or a hard past? What is seen as integral to your structure’s culture - art, literature, music etc? Are allies connected with your structure through culture, a shared distant history?
Most power structures rely on all of these factors - but none are ever equal in importance. Your government will identify one or two of these areas as important and focus on them. This can impact how the structure comes together and eventually falls apart - the greatest strength becomes a weakness, or something is overlooked until it is too late.
This is a long post - so I’m going to leave it here for now. If you guys have any questions, feel free to use the Ask feature to contact me.
Soulmates are not your ~other half~, that’s just nonsense. You are a whole person already, not half a person. A soulmate isn’t even inherently romantic. A soulmate is just the other sock in a matched set. You’re still a whole, complete sock on your own, you are perfectly functional paired with any other sock, it’s just that it’s even better when you match. A soulmate is literally just the person who makes your soul go “!!! Same hat!!!” and wave excitedly.
Now I feel like a bad reader. :( What can I change to give readers a more accurate summary? Because I do enjoy reccing it. :)
No, no! This is great, because if I corrected what’s wrong with your summary it might give away some plot stuff? Or, hm. The most accurate summary is, I guess:
Pru remembers the pre-Flashpoint universe and uses that to troll the Batfam. Along the way, she makes some friends! \o/
I was thinking about making a list the other day but then anon prompted me so clearly the time is right to make one of these. A lot of these authors have stuff which is worth checking out outside of the individual stories I’ve linked, so have fun, and add any that you love as well! It’s quite long so see the read more for full list! **Starred Fics are the Favourite of Favourites**
Really great list! I definitely agree there should be more TimSteph content. I’m very curious to see more n52/Rebirth Steph fics - because of the nature of fanfic, most of the Steph fic I can find tends to be pre-Flashpoint. But I do hope that Tynion’s run has a positive impact. I’ll have to start checking the tags again!
Those LJ fics are really nice. Mostly from just around the time Steph returned, just before she became Batgirl. Which makes sense, since Dixon clearly was setting them up to be in love again, but FabNic and then editorial decreed they must be separated.
“Sorry I Bruced You” is definitely one of the defining TimSteph fics post-Batgirl. I really wish Convergence: Batgirl had more of that flair.
That fic where Steph dreams/is dreaming after Tim’s “death” in Tec during Rebirth is just brutal. Ouch.
I hadn’t read that catchphrase fic set during her return in Eternal. That’s really excellent!
It’s basically a lovely AU n52 fic where Pru from Red Robin is transported from pre to post-Flashpoint universe, and decides to prevent Tim from becoming as dark and isolated as he was in Red Robin by finding all his friends and keeping them safe.
JayTim, 54. “Why wasn’t I invited to your wedding?” (Can I request a happy ending, though? D: )
Happy ending? You got it! Here’s some more Dragon!Tim. Can be seen as a loose sequel to my previous dragon prompt “Excuse you, this is my cave!”
~*~
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jason asks, heart racing as he kneels beside Tim.
“That’s not how the question is usually phrased.” It’s unfair how calm the dragon appears.
“And it’s not usually asked now,” the priestess Stephanie adds. She knows them both all too well.
“Jason, I want to do this.” Tim’s slitted eyes glimmer in the faint light of the rising sun. “If I didn’t, I would have said no when you asked. We are bound in the way of my race, now we will be bound in the way of yours.”
He takes Jason’s trembling hand and rubs the back of it soothingly. It helps. It always does.
Jason draws a deep breath and nods. He can do this. He and his dragon lover have been through too much together to be nervous over this. Over something that makes them happy. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s do this.”
Stephanie smiles beatifically and starts her prayer over them, invoking the blessings of the sun goddess over this union.
They’re about to speak their vows when a loud crash occurs at the entrance to the grove. A moment later, Dick races in, dressed in leather armor and tossing his sword to the ground, remembering at the last moment that weapons were not allowed on this sacred ground.
“Jason!” he shouts. “Tim!”
The almost married couple glare at the interruption. “What are you doing here?” Jason snaps, even as he hides the flutter of relief at seeing someone from his family here. “If Bruce finds out, you will be in so much trouble.”
“I don’t care, little brother,” Dick replies as he kneels behind them and bows to the alter. “You’re getting married. What I don’t understand is why I wasn’t invited to your wedding? You know I’ve always supported you two.”
Jason opens his mouth, but Tim claps a taloned hand over it. “Let’s finish, shall we? The sun is almost up.”
Stephanie chuckles as Jason huffs in frustration. He turns back to the alter and the priestess continues.
“May the light forever shine and illuminate your way, casting away all shadow and doubt. Your souls are now one in the eyes of our beloved Koriand’r. Now kiss each other, you morons. I’ve been waiting for this moment for too long.”
Dick snickers as Tim tugs Jason in for a passionate kiss, perhaps a little too much so for an audience. Jason doesn’t care. He’s married to the person he loves most. It’s still a constant source of amazement that this wondrous being loves him back.
The kiss continues and Stephanie joins in the laugher. “Seriously, you guys. Get a room.”
Tim withdraws just enough to reply. “Who needs a room when I have a whole cavern?”
Dick explodes with laughter and Jason flips him off as he goes back to kissing Tim. The peanut gallery can wait.