#entirely too many henries running around

[angryschnauzer]

On Your Knees

Summary: As general maid for 221 Baker Street, you assist most of the residents. However on one quiet night when most of them are out, only one resident returns to his home... a little worse for wear. He thanks you in the easiest way possible.

Fandoms: Enola Holmes 2, Henry Cavill

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut, NSFW, Drunk Sherlock, Oral Sex (Female Receiving).

Here is my masterlist and AO3

Wordcount: 1854

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll then get an alert each time i post something new. My AO3 also has my entire back catalogue of stories (going back to 2013).

On Your Knees

The cold wind rattled the fragile glass in the frame, a chill advancing into your room even further as the dark night continued. The building of 221 Baker Street was colder than usual, most of the apartments empty for the night due to various parties and festive events happening this time of year meaning the tenants wouldn’t be back until the morning. 

As the scullery maid of 221 Baker Street you were in and out most of the apartments each day, tending to the fireplaces and delivering meals if required. The housekeeper who supervised you telling you where to go and what to do wasn’t around either, though her instruction was rarely needed anymore, you knew the routines of all of the tenants and could read the calendar hung in the kitchen showing who was home and who wasn’t.

At that moment the wind rushed against the window again and you pulled your dressing gown further around your body, shivering beneath your quilt. Glancing at your own laundry you’d hand washed that evening, your bloomers hung on the wooden airer where the chimney breast rose through the building. With every pair you owned doing little to dry in the cold attic room, you cursed your schedule for not giving you time to do it earlier in the day when the sun had been coming through the window. Now you just had your thin nightgown and woollen stockings to keep you warm beneath your dressing gown.

You were drawn from your thoughts by the sound of movement in the hallway far below your room. Freezing you wracked your brain to try to remember if any of the tenants were due back tonight, but none were. Through the eerie quiet of the house there was another bump and a quiet curse. You reached for the large floor brush that still sat beside the door to your room with its dustpan, lifting the brush as a weapon as you opened the door and carefully stepped out onto the old floorboards to peer down through the stairwell. Clinging to your brush you leant forwards over the bannister and peered through the darkness, a single lamp in the hall four floors down barely illuminating the entryway before you suddenly saw a shadow move. Letting out a small gasp you clamped your hand over your mouth as you watched, but that tension evaporated when you recognised the wide shoulders and curly dark hair of the tenant in apartment B;

“Detective Holmes!” you called out, the figure below swivelling rapidly before spinning and looking up.

“Ah. There you are…” a soft hiccup followed as he swayed on his feet.

“I’ll be right down Sir”

Just last week Mr Holmes’ sister helped him into his apartment having had too many drinks at the pub, and it would seem he’d done the same again tonight. Padding on stocking clad feet you descended the stairs quickly, soon arriving in the hallway as Mr Holmes swayed a little on his feet;

“Can i help you to your apartment Sir?”

“Oh that would be *hiccup* wonderful Darling”

Hooking your arm around his back and pulling his own arm over your shoulders, you started to help him up the stairs one at a time, before arriving at his apartment. 

“I have a… I have my… dammit” Mr Holmes cursed as he fumbled for his key, and as you glanced down you could see that the bunch of keys in his pocket had caught on the fabric and were stuck. Without even thinking you batted his hand away and slid your much smaller hand into his pocket, moving the keys around until they were no longer snagged on the fabric. You tried not to think of the heat radiating from Mr Holmes thigh, barely separated from your touch by a thin layer of cotton, nor the firm muscle beneath the fabric that flexed as your delicate fingers brushed against it. He answered your silent thoughts with a grunt, before you pulled the keys out and unlocked the door, all whilst he had his arm around your shoulder.

His body was firm and heavy, a welcome weight against your cold frame, and as he swayed you did so too, before he finally pulled his arm free of your shoulders and started to shuck off his coat and scarf, struggling as he went about the task.

“Mr Holmes, Sir, please let me help…”

He swung around, shrugging his shoulders, his coat now held on his arms around his elbows, his wide shoulders only accentuated by the white shirt and silk waistcoat that clung to his torso. Whilst distracted you didn’t spot his flailing, one stray arm of his coat socking you around the chin, and although not hurting you, caught you by surprise and knocked you back where you lost your footing and fell on your bottom. 

“Ta-da! Done it!” he proclaimed proudly, before spinning around; “Where did you…?”

Climbing to your feet you took the bundle of coat from the floor;

“Ah, there you are Darling, didn’t get you did i?”

“Just a little Mr Holmes. Let me hang this up for you”

As you hung the coat onto the hook near the door you heard a gasp and a soft thud, turning to see Sherlock on his knees before you;

“Mr Holmes!”

“My Darling, i am so sorry, so very very sorry”

He had big puppy dog eyes as he looked up at you, his drunken state obviously accentuating his normally muted emotions; I should have been more careful… a heinous crime I have committed to sock a young lady around with my coat, please… please forgive me…”

You tried very hard not to laugh, for this was so far removed from what Mr Holmes was like normally, but also it stirred something within you, to see this big man on his knees before you, his face mere inches from your stomach. 

“Please Darling…” He edged closer, wrapping his arms around your bottom and pressed his cheek to your stomach; “Please forgive me…”

At first you were frozen with fear, this was not only completely out of character for Mr Holmes, but wholly inappropriate, but the long days and lack of sleep perhaps clouded your judgement and you cautiously rested your hand on the top of his head;

“It’s… it’s ok Mr Homes, Sir”

He turned his head and peered up at you;

“Let me make it up to you”

You could only watch in shock as he moved his hands to rest them on your stocking clad ankles, before he started to inch those warm palms up your legs. When he reached your knees his fingertips rubbed soft circles against the backs of your thighs, your nightgown bunching at his wrists. For the whole time you kept eye contact, unable to draw your gaze away until his fingertips reached the top of your woollen stockings and he let out a small grunt of appreciation. He ducked his head forwards and pressed a single kiss to the skin just above the tied ribbons that secured the stockings in place.

“You smell divine” he muttered softly, inhaling deeply before he bunched your nightgown up in one hand and pressed his nose to the apex of your thighs.

“Oh! Sir!”

He pressed a kiss to your soft mound, before his fingers stroked softly along your seam. Never breaking eye contact he lifted one leg over his shoulder, opening you up like a spring blossom. A warm puff of breath warmed your skin before he leant forwards and his tongue found your silken pearl. If it wasn’t for his firm shoulder your leg was hooked over you would have damn near fallen to the floor, you did lose your footing a little, your back falling to rest against the door behind you and your hands found their way to his dark curls. 

The slight tug on his hair seemed to spur him on, his wicked tongue parting your folds, and the appreciative murmur that came from his muffled lips only excited you more. Sherlock knew exactly what to do, and you can’t believe you had never even considered that this fine specimen of a man would be skilled in the art of lovemaking, but because of his cold demeanour it just hadn’t been something you’d thought of. 

You tried to concentrate on the look of bliss on his face, but the way his long tongue was pushing at your secret canal, his nose rubbing against your pearl, it was almost too distracting. Your head slowly fell back until it rested on the wooden door behind you, your eyes fluttering shut as pleasure grew in the pit of your belly. It was only when he moved a little, his lips finding your pearl again and he slid a thick finger into your tight channel did your eyes spring open;

“Oh lord!”

A quiet chuckle came from between your thighs, looking down to see the mischief in his eyes and he winked at you just as he slid a second finger in alongside the first. He crooked them just so as he moved them slowly but firmly, stroking at your velveteen walls, his lips and tongue increasing their efforts until you felt a surge of pleasure, a white hot fire bursting forth from your core and you climaxed with a loud cry of his name;

“Sherlock!”

As your body trembled he slowed his fingers, before pulling them free and holding them up to the faint candle light, inspecting the stickiness on them with a learned curiosity, before he sucked them both clean. He looked up at you as you trembled above him, slipping your leg off of his shoulder and he went to rock back onto his feet, but unfortunately losing his footing and topping back onto his behind;

“Oouf!”

As your nightdress fell back around your ankles and on unsteady legs you rushed forwards to help him to his feet, his eyes a little glazed from his drunkenness. He was like a lead weight, swaying on his feet until you managed to half carry half drag him to the chaise lounge and unceremoniously drop him on the soft cushion, watching as he twisted his body until he was on his back;

“What was i saying? I’m sure i should have thanked you for something…” he was already nodding off to sleep, oblivious to the rich smell of your sex now hanging in the room. 

You let out a sigh before turning and to the quiet background noise of his snores you lit a fire in the hearth to warm the room. Making sure a heavy yew log was placed in the centre of the grate to ensure a long slow burn, you set the fireguard in place. Spotting his long blue dressing gown hanging over a chair, you carefully laid it over his sleeping form, and with one last glance back at him you exited the apartment. At least with the fire in his apartment now going a sliver of warmth would seep into your room that cold night.

[sourlove]

How would Henry react if reader decided to run away?

🩷🌸

FIND ALL PREVIOUS PARTS AND ASKS HERE

Thanks for the ask!

Henry is a very intelligent man. Part of the reason he led his people to victory in so many wars is because he's such a good strategist. He can think ahead and prepare for any possible scenario. He knows you would try to run away.

So Henry strategized. While you were in the palace, you tried to run away multiple times, only to be caught each time. What you didn't know was that Henry had stressed over every single possible escape route and placed roadblocks to stop you. But after the incident with the Queen, he couldn't trust the people around you.

Moving to a safehouse was a simple matter. Things got complicated when you finally reached the end of your rope and seemed to be doing everything you could to frustrate him.

But Henry had planned for that too.

What a flighty little thing you are. The moment a door was left open by 'accident', or the guards weren't looking, you slipped away. Only to be captured, not by Henry, but by people much worse than him. People that beat you and threaten to use your body as they please. Just as they were about to make true on their promise, there comes Henry, your valiant King on his stallion, slaughtering them all and taking you back to safety.

He nurses you tenderly, cooing when you cry into his arms. All his guilt from arranging the attack goes away when you become so pliant and sweet for him. Well, as long as you learned you lesson, there was no reason for him to spoil anything. Besides, he mused with a slight smirk, the only people who knew the circumstances had been taken care of.

On another hand, if you actually run away and manage to hide away somewhere, that changes everything. The King everyone is knew is gone and with it goes every sense of reason.

Henry had never felt a connection or affection with anyone in his entire life, not even his parents or his wife or his children. The curse made him actually yearn for a love that could save him. Meeting you changed something in him, something in him grew into some dark and twisted form of love that he desperately chased like a drug. For him to suddenly be deprived of you flipped a switch no one had expected.

Henry became increasingly violent the longer you were gone, lashing out at basically anyone who tried to approach him. His visions were coming back and he refused to sleep, for fear of nightmares. He turned away food and only focused on finding you. When nothing came from his search, Henry went ballistic.

He burnt down the forests one by one so you wouldn't have a place to hide. He had villages searched and threatened with execution if they were hiding you. He sent droves of knights into the farthest ends of the kingdom for anyone who even looked like you.

At the end of the day, the message was clear: the King had gone mad and the destruction left was because of you. As long as you were returned safely, peace would be restored and the good King would rise again as their kind and strong ruler. The people had no reason to doubt Henry or the narrative that was being spread. After all, he had done so much for the kingdom, it was their duty to find his lost treasure.

And find you, they did. You were dragged back to the palace in chains and Henry, uncaring of who was watching, wept and kissed you all over your face.

From that day on, any sense of privacy you might have had was gone and you were never left unsupervised. The only way you can escape Henry is through death, and even then, he swore to find your spirit and bring you back to your rightful place by his side.

Please leave a like, comment and reblog if you enjoyed this!

@pinkrose1422

[strawberry-cowmilk]

the brothers dropping their child off at daycare for the first time

-> brothers x mc

a/n: Hey! I'm back at it with the wholesome dad content. Just to be clear, the babies here are the same ones as the ones from my '(character) as a father' series. Also, let's assume the children are around 2 here.

mc's gender is not mentioned, but it is implied they used to be/ are pregnant. I tagged this post with gn!mc, let me know if I need to change it to something else, please! This post was not proofread

content warnings: children, babies, (past) pregnancy, mild angst (insecurity, separation, fear of being a distant parent), mild suggestive content

-----

Lucifer

he did not want to drop his daughter off at daycare at first

because a, he was too proud to do so and b, he'd never admit it, but he'd miss her terribly

however, lucifer has a ton of work, and you can't look after lilith the whole time

one day, lilith came to her dad, asking him to play with her, sadly lucifer rejected the offer because he had to sign paperwork

this happened multiple times, until lucifer decided it wasn't healthy for his daughter to hear 'no, I can't' the entire time, he didn't want her to believe she has a distant father

so, you and him agreed on dropping her off at daycare in the mornings, and picking her up around noon

that way, lucifer can grind out paperwork and play with his child later

lilith didn't like being apart from her family, but she saw playing with her dad later as motivation to get through daycare

the first day his daughter was away from home, lucifer barely got any work done though, he missed his baby

Mammon

your son was very social

he loved playing outside with other kids who lived nearby

and, every time you and mammon took him to town, he'd be talking to everyone

for example, when you're in the dressing room trying on a shirt while mammon and darian are waiting outside, your son would run off to talk to some cashier

thanks to his social nature, you did not expect daycare to be a problem for your child

mammon takes him there for the first time, they walk in the building all happy and smug

but, when the time comes they must part, both father and son are crying while clinging to each other

the daycare worker had to split them up

at home, mammon sulked the whole time until he got to pick his son up, only to find out he had done the same at daycare

'mc, he ain't going to daycare ever again!'

Leviathan

levi was strongly against leaving his son at daycare

but, you thought otherwise

you believed your son needed to socialise a bit more, it would be good for his development

when you told this argument to levi, he folded

he did not want his son to become a social outcast like him

levi wanted to be the one to bring henry to daycare for the first time

the little boy was nervous, but quickly warmed up to the idea of daycare

levi's concerns also melted away once he noticed his son seemed to take this change well, though he still missed his gaming buddy at home

also, levi wanted to give henry a little sibling, if it's a girl, her name will be hana

with the child out of the house, you and him have many chances to try for a second child

Satan

you both agreed your daughter would have to go to daycare at some point

you two had originally planned on starting while she was still a little baby, but that didn't end up happening

satan went to every daycare in the devildom, to pick the best one out for his daughter

he started to lose hope in finding a good place until he came along one with a big backyard

said backyard would often be visited by the cats around the neighborhood

this was the perfect place for his child, satan talked it out with you and you two agreed on letting serena go there

satan was scared serena would be sad or scared to ne somewhere without her parents, but she seemed to be calm in the new environment

when he wanted to pick her up, satan found his daughter in the backyard playing with a cat

Asmodeus

by this time, your first daughter already had a little brother and another sibling on the way (with asmo's libido, you'll be having a whole football team)

at first, you and asmo thought you could take care of your children without any help, but lately it's proven to be harder than initially thought

you two decided to leave your first and second children at daycare

asmo searched all over the devildom to find a fancy enough daycare, which he found but it was expensive, he still paid for it

because he does not want you to overwork yourself, asmo was the one to drop the children off

your daughter seemed excited to make new friends, but your son was another story

the second asmo handed him to the daycare worker, he started crying

asmo's heart broke, he tried to stay with his son but the worker kicked him out

luckily, your son was calmer when his sister was around

Beelzebub

he knew daycare would be good for his daughter, but when it came to it, he refused to hand her off to some worker

cue beel constantly slowly spinning around on his feet, to face away from the worker with lilith in his arms

she seemed to be having the time of her life, though

eventually, the worker got beel to let go of his child, but he stayed ny her side until they had to kick him out

he was not happy about that

fast forward a few years, lilith now has two younger siblings, twins, riliane and allen (still, if yk yk)

and eventually, the twins needed to go to daycare too

lilith remembered how reluctant her father was to leave her there, so she offered to stay by her brother and sister's side, that way she could protect them and beel wouldn't worry

beel has never been more proud of his little family in his life

Belphegor

belphie is very protective over his son, despite the fact that he's the reason he can't sleep some nights

therefore, he was strongly against sending his child to daycare

he didn't trust those workers there enough to keep his precious baby safe

one day, your son asked why all his friends go to daycare but he doesn't

belphie didn't want to make his child feel like he was missing out, and you were team daycare in the first place, so now he's gonna go

when belphie was about to leave him there, his son started to get scared, because he thought that his parent would come in with him

the daycare worker explained to the child it didn't work like that, and he burst out crying

belphie's protective mode kicked in, he lifted his son up and went home together

maybe he'll go some other time

[ninzied]

kiss me once 'cause you know

in which alex sort of moves in and they don't talk about what it means. or: a cakegate never happened and then they become friends and accidental roommates au. for @rwrbmovie and @rwrbsource's rwrbweek: day 6 | kiss also on ao3. ~2k.

Of all the things they’ve been to one another—sometimes-rivals, reluctant allies, tediously cordial seatmates at international events—Henry never thought that he and Alex would end up being something like friends.

And yet here they are:

Henry, living his little gay life as Pez calls it in Brooklyn, running an LGBTQ youth shelter that’s two blocks away from David’s favorite dog park—

And Alex, earning his law degree at NYU and, apparently, looking up numbers of erstwhile princes (he’d phoned the shelter first, much to Pez’s utter delight) and asking if Henry wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

Henry had been baffled then, and, if he’s honest, even now he’s still not entirely sure he hasn’t missed something.

He brought it up, once. Many months into their—friendship?—after he was reasonably certain that it was a permanent thing, whatever it was.

Alex had shrugged. Tore off some more pita and dipped it into the labneh in front of them. “I wanted to find out if you were any less insufferable now that you’re, you know.” He glanced back up. “No longer royalty.”

“I see,” said Henry, with a customary roll of his eyes. “And what’s the verdict, then?”

Alex replied, around a mouthful of pita and a spectacularly shit-eating grin, “Jury’s still out.” His eyes were alight, either with mischief or the glow of the flickering candle between them, Henry decided he’d rather not think on too closely. “Guess we’ll have to keep seeing each other, just to know for sure.”

“Wonderful,” said Henry dryly, and Alex had laughed, and Henry had tried not to feel a certain type of way about it.

It all could be perfectly normal, you see, if not for the fact that Henry is, as ever, completely and hopelessly in love with the man.

It’s fine—really, it is—on most days.

Most days, they have dinner. Usually someplace obscure, where Henry can’t tell if the staff don’t know who they are or don’t care. Either way, they go where the food is generally excellent and where they know they won’t ever be bothered. Neither of them are public figures anymore, but maintaining some semblance of privacy seems to be an unspoken agreement between them.

Some days, when they’re meeting in Brooklyn, Alex follows him home.

There’s really no other way to describe it, because the first time it happened, Henry had literally turned right thinking Alex would go left back toward the Q; instead, he kept pace with Henry, chatting all the way to the stoop of his brownstone. Then, while Henry struggled to find the most casual way to ask if he’d like to come in, Alex was already striding inside like he lived there.

And, some days, it truly feels like he does.

Henry chalks it up to things like exam times at first.

When they aren’t talking, or watching Star Wars (bickering about Star Wars, more like), Alex is nose-deep in a textbook or furrowing his brow at yet another paper, pausing only to swig on a beer every time David barks at Paul Hollywood onscreen. As the semesters go on, the readings get longer, the papers more time-consuming, and some nights will turn into mornings where Henry finds Alex passed out on his couch and spooning the pillow that has the beagle embroidered in the center.

Henry tries his hardest not to notice nor to feel any particular way about it, but over time his living room is slowly but surely overtaken, resembling more and more the study of some kind of mad genius.

He finds Alex’s notes strewn all about, tucked into odd spaces and utterly illegible to him. Alex’s textbooks occupy every conceivable space but the shelves, some precariously balanced at the very edges of Henry’s furniture. This is how he almost winds up with a broken big toe, when David mad-dashes after a ball twice his size (“Indoors, Alex? For Christ’s sake”), and the largest bloody tome on constitutional law or some such very nearly takes Henry out as he’s walking by.

Henry lifts the book and places it much more securely in the center of the coffee table. It takes some finagling, because there are no fewer than three half-empty mugs of stale brew, one of Henry’s (tea, though, of course), a cluster of Henry’s pens because Alex can’t be bothered not to keep losing his own, and Alex’s glasses, which Alex had been searching for until he and David both got distracted by a new toy.

“You’re a menace,” says Henry.

“You love me,” grins Alex, not even looking up as he play-wrestles David and murmurs, “Good boy,” which is a very fortunate thing because Henry’s just flushed the shade of a tomato, he’s certain.

He mumbles an excuse about checking the oven—an entirely absurd claim to make, because if there are any legitimate issues he’ll simply have to come right back out and face Alex again. Alex has said he can’t be trusted in the kitchen, though from Henry’s point of view, anyone who eschews the metric system is the one who can’t be trusted.

“Remember it’s in Fahrenheit, babe,” calls Alex from the other room, and Henry promptly knocks his elbow into a stray spoon, sending it a-scatter.

That could be an absolutely normal thing to call a friend. Right?

Henry has no concept of how long he stands there, staring at the oven timer tick down. He ought to rationalize it away as best he can, but a very small, very stupid part of him wants to hope instead.

“Hey. Move over.” Alex is suddenly next to him, laughing as he nudges Henry out of the way with his hip. Henry stands frozen as Alex bends down, opening the oven door and giving the pan a testing jiggle.

“Needs a little more time,” he says, then glances at the spoon clutched in Henry’s hand. “Definitely too soon for that. Still gotta chill it overnight. Who eats cheesecake with a spoon, anyway?”

Right.

So, sometimes Alex bakes for them. Sometimes he cooks for them, too. Actually, he’s been cooking quite a lot, come to think of it. They don’t dine out much at all anymore.

It’s become increasingly difficult for Henry to not think about these sorts of things and wonder if they might mean something.

One morning, Henry comes down the stairs to the living room to find that Alex isn’t there.

He can’t actually recall the last time that happened, Alex not ending up spending the night. There’s never not some looming deadline that keeps him up at unreasonable hours, and even then they’re usually up later than that just talking to one another.

Last night Alex had definitely nodded off—refusing the spare room, as always—and he’d seemed deeply asleep when Henry, in a fit of madness or maybe he had a small stroke, who can say, had taken a blanket and tucked him carefully in before turning out the light.

Henry wonders if perhaps that was the thing to have driven Alex off in the middle of the night at last. He tries not to wonder what it could mean, whether it’s irrational for him to feel as devastated as he does, standing there, staring at the neatly folded blanket in front of him now.

Distantly, there’s a clang of something like metal on metal. It sounds as though it’s come from the kitchen.

Henry frowns. He hadn’t heard David come down the stairs after him. Which means—could it—

The clanging noise is followed by a low curse under breath, and Henry, God help him, Henry cannot breathe.

Alex is making breakfast.

He’s already dressed for the day, looking fresh-faced and several cups of coffee in judging from the trail he’s left behind on the counter. Henry ought to have noticed the aroma earlier, but the flat has smelled almost permanently of coffee ever since Alex took up unofficial residence here.

Here. He’s here. Alex is still here.

“Hi,” says Henry, still slightly dumbfounded.

“Morning, sunshine.” Alex shoots him a grin that feels like it’s pierced him straight from Eros’ bow, and Christ when did Henry get so maudlin? “I have a study group soon, but wanted to make sure you got fed before going.”

“I can feed myself, thank you,” says Henry, not terribly convincingly. Surely there must be a box of cereal here, somewhere, that can help him attest to that fact.

“Uh huh.” Alex tilts the pan of eggs onto a plate, adding several garnishes that Henry didn’t even know were in his kitchen’s possession. “Listen, I know you Brits are adverse to flavor, but don’t forget the hot sauce this time, okay?”

“You are determined to give me heartburn,” says Henry, not a little bit wistfully, because Alex truly has no clue.

“You know it.” Alex winks at him while loading the dishwasher. “Tea’s in the cupboard. Got the one you like from that bougie place in West Village, ‘cause that’s just the kind of guy I am.” He straightens, brushing off his hands, already on the move, always on the move. “We still on for the museum social?”

“Oh, yes,” says Henry, cheering considerably at the thought. He has his outfit planned and everything, down to the tie that Alex had gotten for his birthday last year. “Looking forward to it.”

“All right. I’ll see you tonight,” says Alex, and then he’s leaning in as he walks past, one hand cupping Henry’s jaw, his lips touching briefly to Henry’s cheek. Like it’s something he always does—like this is how they’ve said goodbye every morning, how they will say goodbye every morning—and this is it. Henry is simply done for.

It’s over so quickly that Alex is already halfway to the foyer before the thought occurs to Henry that perhaps he’s just imagined the whole thing.

The front door opens and closes. Somewhere he can hear David puttering around, nosing into his food bowl that Alex must have refilled earlier, and yes, it must not have been real. How else could he explain Alex making him breakfast, feeding his dog, kissing him and then walking away like everything hasn’t been utterly and irrevocably changed between them?

Henry is still standing there, trying to recall how to breathe, when the door opens again. And then Alex is there, standing in front of him, and Henry can do this. He wills himself to make it so.

Their eyes meet.

“Hey.” Alex hovers in place for a moment. His expression is fairly neutral, but he’s gone uncharacteristically still. Henry doesn’t think he’s ever seen him stand so still before. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Well. That answers that, then.

Henry struggles to swallow. “It’s all right,” he finally manages to say. It is, in fact, the furthest thing from all right. “No harm done.” Every harm has been done, actually, and Henry doesn’t know which part is worse—that Alex hadn’t meant to kiss him, or that Alex is saying he’s sorry he did. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. We don’t have to—”

“No—Henry. That’s not what I’m saying.”

“It’s—” Henry swallows again. He can’t seem to recall how to put words side by side anymore. “No?”

Alex shakes his head. He takes one, then another, step closer. His eyes are bright with something that Henry almost doesn’t dare hope to read. Something warm. Something burning.

“I didn’t mean to do it like that,” Alex says. “Because it does mean something.” Henry doesn’t think he’s imagined the way Alex’s voice has cracked at the end. “It means everything, Henry, and I’d really like to do it right this time.”

“Oh,” says Henry, breathlessly. “Yes. Yes, go on then.”

Alex is already striding forward before he’s even finished speaking.

He takes Henry’s face in his hands, and then Alex’s mouth is on his, warm and hungry and wanting. Henry’s lips part, a soft groan escaping Alex’s throat as their tongues meet and slide together, and it’s everything that Henry never thought could be his until now.

His. Alex is his.

Henry buries his hands in Alex’s hair, gripping there in counterpoint to the way he presses his body up against his, trying to get closer. When they part, they’re both gasping a little, Alex’s forehead pressed against his as the air between them starts to settle.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” says Alex, voice low and heated all over.

Henry smiles. “Darling,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss him again. “You have no idea.”

[mamawasatesttube]

hi do you have any kon comics recs?

oh boy do i!!!!! ♥

for his origins, you'll want to read "reign of the supermen" (probably easiest to read it as a tpb, because the individual issues are all over the place). this details his creation and escape from cadmus, his relationships with clark and john henry irons, and his early attitudes!

after that, of course. well. superboy (1994). i love this comic. it is deeply flawed. it's 100 issues long, so it's a bit of an undertaking, but in my opinion it's essential reading to actually understand kon as a character. he gets groomed and exploited in many ways in this book, and it is not handled well because it's treated as acceptable as the fantasy of any teenage boy (the grooming and sexual abuse), or played for comedic effect (the financial exploitation). but understanding those facets of kon's backstory are vital to get a read on him as a character. sb94 also does a really great job of establishing him as someone kind, creative, and incredibly lonely and depressed. he's passively suicidal for pretty much the entire run. he's a really good boy. and some of his relationships with his supporting cast (roxy, serling, dubbilex, guardian) are just sooo <333

next up: young justice (1998)! this is the fun one with a lot of shenanigans. the depth here is mostly understated for characters like kon, tim, and bart (who have their own solos outside of it) and i'd say the kon experience here is enhanced by having read sb94 first, because there are certain arcs that follow up on things going on at cadmus and stuff. after yj98 is teen titans/young justice: graduation day, which basically shows how yj disbands after donna troy's death.

after that is the unfortunate mess that is teen titans (2003). this comic is not good, but it is important. this is where the lex retcon happens, the mind control arc happens, and the tie-ins to infinite crisis all happen. kon dies in infinite crisis, returns in final crisis, and rejoins the team towards the end of tt03.

next up is adventure comics (2009), the first six issues of which get into what kon does in the wake of his resurrection. superboy (2011) (i) (not to be confused with the n52 superboy solo) follows up on some of these themes and shows his adventures in smallville! both are pretty solid.

if you Really wanna dig into everything going on towards the end of postcrisis continuity, i'd rec getting into a tpb of the new krypton arcs! kon isn't around for everything there (he's dead for the first parts), but by last stand of new krypton, he's back and running around with the legion (this includes the last few issues of adventure comics '09, too).

in n52 kon is just. not there. the "kon-el" in n52 is just straight up an entirely different guy. (incidentally, this guy is where the edgy "kon means abomination" thing comes from. this is a retcon. kon's name originally is the name of a dead cousin of clark's that clark says he would be honored if superboy would accept.)

if you want to read anything post flashpoint, he gets reintroduced to continuity in young justice (2019). then the house of kent arc in action comics sort of explains his situation in prime earth continuity. stuff like yjdc (which i have not and will not be reading, so i certainly can't recommend it) takes place after this, and kon appears some in various other action comics arcs going on lately, but none of those are major appearances really. he did have his recent mini solo superboy: man of tomorrow, which was... fine. nothing spectacular imo, but the covers are cute and i have all six issues sitting on my desk because kon <3!

i know this is kind of long. my bad i love to ramble about kon kjsdhf but!! if you have any questions or anything i'm happy to elaborate or clarify further!! but in the meantime. go forth, and happy kon reading ❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷💖

[b1gwings]

today's dndads was so fucking good and people are making good points about the parallels and cycles of Henry not being proud of Sparrow, and then Sparrow not being proud of Normal which is all so real and heartwrenching. I also noticed something in addition to that when they came back from the past and he started to walk into the woods.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about last episode when Normal said something to Scam about "I can't be around another adult who thinks they deserve to die." The twins are the main adults in his life that think like this, especially with Lark's whole "if someone's going to die for this, it's going to be me" attitude. One of my friends told me about a really good post they saw (although they couldn't find it :( ) about how this is an effect of the adults in Normal's life not wanting to take accountability. They want it to be fixed, but they'd rather die to punish themselves instead of stick around to help fix it.

Normal is sick of this behavior and this seniment. Lark, Sparrow, and the other kiddads ROYALLY fucked up everyone's life -- even though it's their fault Normal would rather see them do something about it. Which makes a lot of fucking sense? He's been around this his entire life, and since learning about Code Purple it's just gotten worse.

Which is why him trying to just walk out into the woods struck me as so interesting. Obviously, baby Normal was not responsible for releasing the flesh monster onto D.A.D.D.I.E.S HQ just like Lark was not responsible for releasting the Doodler. The way I see it, Lark blames himself wholeheartedly for this whole mess. Sparrow too. Their self-hatred only festers into an immensely heavy guilt. It's hard to get out from under those huge feelings. And, yeah, it would be easier to just die -- to punish themselves for fucking up so bad -- than having to figure out a way to fix it. It feels hopeless.

Normal has a moment with that guilt in this episode. He fully believes that it's his fault Code Purple ever happened, and that guilt makes him feel like he needs to isolate himself. It's the same principle of wanting to avoid whatever fucked up shit comes after. Normal can't help but feel that hopelessness that runs in his family -- he's not good enough for these awesome, helpful people because all he's done so far is fuck things up. And despite resenting this behavior from the adults in his life, he falls back into it. Because what is he supposed to do? He's just a kid who messes things up no matter how hard he tries to fix it. Why would his friends even want him around anyway? They're the ones who are actually saving the world.

I just really love the way dndads works with cycles. There are so many and they're all so good (and heartbreaking).

[tendergraphite]

Francis Is The Worst Character. (And Why You Should Think So Too.)

My first Francis post, and it's probably not the one people wanted. Lemme paint the scene—You've just committed a murder, so are on a drug/drinking spree for the night so you can feverishly ignore the fact you are having a mental breakdown. You awaken in your own bed after (Lucky you?) To your best-friend at your bedside. He makes you tea! All is lovely and you're still buzzing quite a bit from the previous escapades; You are very much not sober.

You are unconcerned, I mean? You've already set a clear boundary with your friend, and he knows you are uninterested (Either that, or not ready yet.) So you turn around, because you trust him—And then your best-friend assaults you.

Wouldn't the first thing you would feel, be betrayal?

In what way, is that sexually appealing whatsoever outside of fantasy? ''Oh but this book is fic-'' It's set in a realistic setting, it's fiction yes, but is supposed to be read as something that could really happen. The other thing here is intent, how did the writer intend for this scene and it's characters to be read? Well, let's consider how Francis has actually been set up vs how the general audience perceives him.

Bunny was assaulted by Francis: This is implied at the beginning of the books set-up—It isn't obvious without the later context, and it's hard to put two-and-two together when the peace's of information are so scattered In the book. We'll get one peace of the puzzle, before we are distracted by another that in the moment appears more intriguing. I however, have theorised Bunny for one, defended/lied for the group in the beginning in order to keep the peace for Henry's sake.

When the matter of Francis had come up in the restaurant, Bunny had been stiff and waved of the peace of information and quickly skipped of to the next topic. Richard later even points out how utterly uncomfortable the two are when together, how ''Something'' Had clearly happened between the two but he didn't know what.

When the vail later shifted, and Bunny became entirely honest about what he really thought about each member of the group—He'd been so harsh about Francis homosexuality because he was still deeply wounded by the assault. (I'd like to point out it proves Bunny did know Francis was gay the entire time, but was just lying.)

He doesn't feel safe around Francis; never once in the book do we have a scene/implied scene (apart from the assault) of the two alone. It might even be why Bunny is so touchy about people knowing when he is drunk, or has slept with someone—Because those are signs of weakness that could be taken advantage of, and were similar conditions to what he experienced.

The matter of Charles is far more grim, unlike Bunny he'd never been able to stand up to Francis—He was more susceptible to the manipulation. We do catch a glimpse of Charles true feelings the night before the funeral, where for a moment Francis's jabbering causes Charles to puff up like a wounded animal.

Francis is so incredibly abusive it borders on comedic how much he gets away with. He plainly victim blames Charles, who obviously really does have amnesia—Francis would've done this to anyone, Charles wasn't nearly as special as he tried to make him sound; Bunny would've suffered the same fate as Charles if he had the chance.

Alcoholism is Escapism—Addicts are some of the most vulnerable individuals in society, who're simply trying to escape the demons they cannot face within their everyday life. Charles is one such person whose running away from overwhelming guilt—And instead of being met with compassion, he is taken advantage of by Francis. Charles is assaulted repeatedly, and the worst part is Francis entirely felt justified in doing so.

Francis is a favored character in the fandom. He's funny, charming—And suffers from a mental illness many themselves suffer with. It's likely why on first reading, when Francis reacts to Richards confrontation—They take his side, because Boohoo; He's insecure, he hates his appearance, he's so lonely and is inlove with Charles! Charles is rejecting him, Francis can't help himself Charles is the perpetrator and not a victim-!

It's a wonder whenever we do see Francis react to the consequences of his actions. It's as if he's glaring down at a fire that just spat at him because he'd fed it to much.

At each turn, I see the audience feel sorry for Francis when it is unwarranted and doesn't even make sense. My best guess has to be that people relate to him because of his Anxiety. He's perceived as weak and without capability of taking responsibility for his actions; He comes of as defenceless, which has therefore translated to him being a good person.

But Francis is anything but, whenever Francis gets anxious it gets misread as guilt for the murder, when what he really felt was fear for getting caught. Charles had felt guilt for Richard being dragged in, but Francis felt concern that Richard would get them in trouble.

Richard had been into Francis, but that wasn't consent. Merely being physically attracted to a person has never and will never ever somehow translate or equal consent. Even if you are dating them, or are married, that is not consent.

Consent isn't a game, someone's boundaries are not a game. It all doesn't suddenly change because their gay, and people think two men kissing is hot. (I mean it is, but consent is sexier and there is non of that going on here.)

A lot of us are actively looking for queer representation in our media, and only recently has that demand really being met in what we consume today. But let's be honest, that's been a very recent thing. Obviously we want Francis and Richard to be something that it isn't, because look! A book I really like, with characters just like me! But Francis is a serial rapist, and no amount of twisting the text can change that. This book does have queer themes, but you won't find what you're looking for in Francis.

-

This post was inspired by this poll, which hasn't even been completed yet. But currently Francis is winning which deeply annoyed me.

[moaloves]

Danger Force Head canons

(If you recognize these it’s bc I posted them before I accidentally DELETED MY ENTIRE BLOG😭)

Bose calls Henry to talk about his parental problems a lot

Mika does her own hair and occasionally does Miles’ too

Sometimes Miles and Mika have to sleep in the same room to ensure they’re both still there and okay

Miles has multiple places only he knows about and that he occasionally teleports to just to get some time away

Bose occasionally has trouble setting boundaries leading to the others’ unintentionally hurting him

In the opposite direction Chapa occasionally preemptively sets too many boundaries causing the others to accidentally exclude her

Miles runs late to things a lot of the time because he constantly thinks, “It’ll only take me a second to get there!” even if he’s meant to already be there

Mika drinks tea almost every night to soothe her throat preemptively

Chapa makes most of her own clothes but Miles can sew better than she can

Mika struggles to meet the expectations she has set for herself, often leading to burnout and breakdowns

Miles often struggles with how his interpersonal values conflict with beating up criminals all the time

Due to going to school together and fighting crime together all four kids quickly become codependent

Chapa sometimes has to spend hours or days to herself just to get away from all the stress being a superhero causes

Bose was the first of them to get seriously hurt on a mission, forcing him on bed rest for a week, and off active field duty for at least a month

It was the first time the others really realized that one day this job may kill them

A few villains retired after Kid Danger “died” and more are extra careful with how they treat Danger Force, just in case

As the kids get older they spend a lot of time making up on the schoolwork they missed when they were younger

As the kids get older they get more and more disillusioned with the whole superhero gimmick

They all quit being sidekicks like Henry did although at different times

Miles quits first, deciding he’s ready for a more peaceful approach

Chapa quits next, feeling constrained by Ray and like she’s ready to be an adult

Bose leaves after her, more peacefully than the other two but not without at least one screaming match

Mika lasts the longest but eventually has to leave to go to college and live her life

Ray often wonders if taking in more sidekicks was truly a good idea

Schwoz loves the kids as though they’re his own

He often gives them money (that he may or may not have taken from Ray) to allow them to go out like normal teenagers

If Bose overuses his powers he can get migraines occasionally resulting in nose bleeds and on the worst days nausea

The first time it happened he threw up and fainted

It was terrifying for everyone to witness

If Mika overuses her powers she loses her voice for about a week and can’t super scream for even longer

The overuse will make her throat swell as well, causing her to have difficulty breathing

It’s extremely painful and the only thing the others can do is give her medicine and make her soothing drinks

When Miles overuses his powers he gets extreme vertigo.

He’s also often nauseous making it near impossible to move.

It’s disconcerting and no one's ever sure how long it will last.

When Chapa overuses her powers her hands and other extremities go numb

She can still summon lightning but she has no control over the output or direction it goes leading it to be dangerous for everyone around her

She usually just has to carry around insulation gloves and wait for her hands to regain feeling

[royal-ruin]

red, white, and royal blue (rwrb) fic rec (part 1)

in honor of the movie coming out, here are some of my fav rwrb fic recs. i have a ton but i'm not entirely sure how many parts this should be, so we'll see.

other rwrb fic recs here personal favorites are starred, by the way. everything is complete unless stated otherwise.

25 Questions by clottedcreamfudge (~2k)

acdiaz how well does @hrhprincehenry know me really??? Time to find out! Full disclosure: he had to be bribed with jaffa cakes to do this, but it was worth it. Every single answer is VERBATIM and if he tells you otherwise it's a LIE.

soft and adorable, the perfect kind of fluff.

I'd Cross Oceans by 14hpgirl19 (~5k)

Dating a prince is hard. Dating a prince when you're the son of the President is even harder.  Alex is done with barely seeing Henry. When Henry gets sick while in London, Alex decides to take matters into his own hands. (And if he ends up with a fiance at the end of it, even better.)

marriage proposal fics are the best, you'll see a ton of them.

titles are the worst, we refuse byathousandrooms, clottedcreamfudge, everwitch, indomitablelove, railmedaddy for TheAmberFox (~11k)

The paparazzi, a friend, their classmates, a true enemy. Alex is no stranger to telling people to fuck off, it’s a daily occurrence; but when it’s Henry who does it? Alex couldn’t be prouder. 5 times Alex tells someone to fuck off and one time Henry does.

i clicked on the fic because one of the tags are "fuck the patriarchy"

**Never Did Run Smooth by clottedcreamfudge (~67k)

"You and me? Best friends. Stellar. Love that for us. But we could absolutely fake being in love. Dating. Whatever. I know literally everything about you—" (No you don't, Henry thinks firmly) "—and you know everything about me. We would absolutely fucking annihilate the other contestants.” "You're too drunk to apply," Henry points out, like he himself isn't about as wasted as it's possible for him to be without curling up and going immediately to sleep. "I doubt you could spell your own name right on the application. Or mine." Alex grins and pulls something up on his phone; it looks like it takes him a few tries. "Wanna fucking bet?" Or: Henry's life is a comedy of errors; a patchwork of oopsie-daisies; a quilt stitched together with hauntingly terrible mistakes. And at the centre of it all is his best friend, Alex Claremont-Diaz; director of said comedy, threading together his oopsie-daisies into a flower crown, rolling around in the quilt of his own making, and this analogy is going to shit because Henry's so in love with him he wants to die.

oh my god??? this fic has my heart?? no other words than must-read.

Play The Game by laurentknows (1k)

The papers get a little too much and Alex and Henry decide to play the game with them.

some sweet fluff and comedy.

Red, White & Navy Blue by jedusaur (~4k)

"Fine," says Alex. He clenches his jaw and his fists. "Great. Watch me. I'll bromance the shit out of the motherfucker."

two words: hockey au

Keep Most of Your Heart in Londonby cresswells (~4k)

Alex thinks he’s prepared – as prepared as he’ll ever be. He’s been waiting for months to do this. He even did his research on the proper etiquette for a British royal engagement – and then promptly ignored it all. AKA: The one with the engagement of the century.

[anincompletelist]

“Don’t make it into a big deal.” FirstPrince

xoxo MJ/kiwiana-writes

HI FRIEND! :D

+

Mornings have quickly become Henry’s most favorite part of the day. 

He denotes ‘most’ because there are a lot of favorites now that they’re both fully moved into the brownstone and Alex is here full time, stealing his covers and talking through his favorite television shows. But the early mornings, before either of them have any obligations, when Alex’s hair is all smushed to one side of his head, his cheek red from resting against Henry’s shoulder all night and his words soft and slow, might just top the list. After being gone the entire week prior to London, Henry’s extra eager today. 

Alex makes it downstairs to the sitting area first, curled up in his armchair with their knitted blanket draped over his folded legs when Henry emerges from the hallway. He stops in the kitchen to grab the freshly made mug of Earl Grey that Alex had left him moments ago, still steaming as he brings it to his chest and moves to the den to take up his seat across from him. 

Unlike Henry, Alex is decidedly not a morning person. He grumbles more than he speaks pre-caffeine, a pinch between his brows that Henry has soothed many times with his lips and his hands. He steps forward to do it now, accustomed to the smell of coffee beans and cinnamon like muscle memory at this point, and pauses beside the chair when it’s noticeably absent. He glances down at Alex’s mug in his lap, a familiar cup of Earl Grey staring back at him. 

“Alex, that’s— are you drinking my tea?” 

“Your tea?” Alex scoffs, reaching under his glasses to rub the sleep from his eye. “Oh, so when you said ‘what’s mine is yours’ I guess you were just—” 

“Alex.” 

His lip drawn up between his teeth, Alex avoids his eye. “So what if I am,” he mutters, running a fingertip around the rim. “Started making it when you were out of town last week out of habit. Wasn’t gonna waste it. I’m sure I’d never hear the fuckin’ end of it.” 

Henry’s heart stutters inside of his chest. “You made it while I was away?” 

Chin dipped to his chest, Alex inhales, his voice low and rough with sleep. “Smells like you.” 

“Oh, love,” Henry sighs, finally bending down to smooth his lips over the wild curls at Alex’s forehead. 

“Don’t make it into a big deal,” Alex warns, pushing him toward his own armchair with his foot. His thick glasses do little to hide the flush blooming on his cheeks in the morning sunshine, Henry’s own beaming grin a fixture between his ears. Before he sits he leans across and seals their mouths together, just to taste it on his lips. 

“I love you,” he says. He goes to pull away, only to be drawn back by the front of his sleep shirt. 

“Love you too,” Alex presses into his mouth, bergamot and citrus and happiness thick on his tongue. 

+

[on ao3 here]

[send me a line of dialogue and I'll write something fluffy!] :D

[obsidiancreates]

One Undead To Another (Chapter 15)

(An intermediary chapter)

“It’s kind of adorable,” Juliet whispers, pulling out her phone to take a picture.

“They’re grown men, O’Hara. One of them is a corpse.”

“But they’re curled up like kittens,” she whispers back as she takes a few pictures. Shawn twitches a little in his sleep, pressing closer to Gus on the couch. His mouth is slightly parted, a little trickle of drool coming out. Gus is shivering slightly in his sleep, but he too curls closer to Shawn.

“Well, you’re the one with cats. You wake Guster up.”

Juliet rolls her eyes, pockets her phone, and reaches out to gently shake Gus’s shoulder. “Gus. Wake up.”

“Nah ye’,” he mumbles in his sleep, weakly swatting at the air. “Snow d’y.”

“You’re in your thirties, Gus,” Juliet gently reminds. “No snow days.”

“Mmm.”

Juliet moves to shake Shawn in the hopes he can wake Gus up… and pauses. His eyes are… puffy.

She looks back at Gus. His eyes are puffy too, now that she thinks about it. She’d figured the dried tear tracks were just because of the whole chest-bruise incident, but…

She looks back at Shawn, leans in, examines. 

“Carlton.” She looks up. “Maybe we let them sleep a little longer.”

“O’Hara, I already have to babysit one-”

“They were crying.”

“Guster cries all the time.”

“Shawn was crying too.”

Lassiter stiffens. He leans in to look for himself. “... Crap.”

“They need some rest.”

“... Fine. I need to check the gun I lent Guster anyway.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When morning comes Henry tries to call Shawn. 

It rings, rings, rings–

Voicemail.

“You better not be on the run,” Henry grumbles as he gets into his truck. He drives to Shawn’s apartment and knocks. Nothing.

He drives to the Psych office. The first thing he notices is the large crack in not only the glass of the front door, but the wood. There’s a dent in the outside wall too– undoubtedly and unmistakably made by the door handle. How did that happen? Was Shawn maybe kidnapped by that cult? Did they intimidate him into keeping quiet? Not possible– even Henry can’t intimidate his son into keeping his mouth shut when it’s important.

He walks inside.

Freezes.

He walks back out to try again. 

… No, same sight as before.

Shawn and Gus are sleeping on each other on the couch– a little unexpected, but not entirely unusual. It reminds Henry of all those sleepovers when they were kids, many nights of tucking of a single blanket around both of them while the TV played and they laid wrapped around each other on the couch, still in their day clothes. Shawn always slept best on those nights.

What is shocking, enough so to make Henry question his sanity for a moment, is Juliet and Lassiter both asleep at the desks. Lassiter is sitting up at Gus’s desk, head tilted back just slightly and closed eyes the only real sign he’s not awake, while Juliet has her head in her arms laying down on Shawn’s desk. 

“What the hell is going on?!”

Shawn bolts awake with a shout, facing away from Henry, and Gus shoots up with only a second delay. Lassiter startles awake reaching straight for his gun, and Juliet jerks her head up with a groan as she rubs at her sore neck.

Henry notes Gus going wide-eyed, then looking between him and Shawn. Gus whispers something and Shawn puts his hands up to his face, waiting a second before lowering them and checking for approval.

Henry half expects white powder when Shawn turns around– drugs would make this whole situation make much more sense– but instead when Shawn turns around he looks…

Fine. 

Better than fine. Henry can’t remember his son ever looking so well-rested, in fact. Which makes this worse.

“So.” Henry crosses his arms. “You’re all sick, huh?”

Gus raises his hand to fake a cough– and lowers it again when Henry glares.

“Let me make sure I have this right. Your suspects’ house burns down. Shawn comes in saying you’re all sick, just– out of the blue. His only symptom is a scratchy throat. Then, I hear while working late that Shawn brought in a kidnapper after he was supposed to go home and rest. And now I find all four of you here, in the Psych office, healthy as a horse.”

“That saying makes no sense,” Shawn pipes up, and his voice is also fine. No rasp, no crackling, nothing. “Horses are never healthy, everyone knows this. Plus, you said a singular horse, and there are clearly four– four? … Four! Of us here.””

“Spencer,” Lassiter hisses. Shawn holds up his hand to shut the detective up. It works by inciting sheer indignation at the audacity, something Lassiter is somehow still taken aback by every time.

“Listen, Dad, I can explain. I felt better so I took a private case, and then I called everyone here to go over our case again even though they all wanted to keep resting.”

“And the detectives just… agreed.”

“Lassie’s a workaholic and Jules can’t resist my sweet sweet smile.”

“Shawn.”

“What are you trying to imply anyway, Dad? What, you think I burned their house down? I didn’t even know anything happened until you said it just now!”

“I think you were there. I think these three know something about it.”

“Well, you’re wrong. And apparently, our case is done, so you’re wrong and telling us we won’t get paid. You know, most parents just bring their kids orange juice when they’re home sick.”

“You’re not home sick. You’re in your office, picture of health.”

“Except for the migraine I have now.” Shawn takes off his jacket and wraps it around his head. “Since when do you breathe so loud? You should get that checked.”

“The migraine trick isn’t working today, Shawn. And you two.” Henry points at Juliet and Lassiter, who have started trying to slink out the back way. They both freeze. “I won’t tell The Chief about this, not until I know what the hell my son has dragged you both into, but know I’ll be watching.”

“You don’t have authority over us,” Lassiter scoffs as he turns around.

“You think that’ll stop him? I’m in my mid-thirties, he’s still convinced I can’t visit someone’s house without setting it on fire. He’s not exactly lenient, Lassie.”

“So you were there.”

“... No.”

Henry locks eyes with his son. He looks for any giveaway, any tells– but Shawn has gotten good. His eyes are only a window if that window has been painted over, boarded up, and then put behind a new inner wall. They’re empty– almost dead. 

Henry gets a shiver up his spine. 

Something in his son’s eyes is wrong. 

What the hell happened the other night?

“Have it your way.” He turns, heart beating just a little faster than normal. He’s not afraid. Of anything, especially not of Shawn. For Shawn, sure. He’s afraid for Shawn every single day, waiting for a body bag and a report about his son having run his mouth off to the wrong person this time around. But not of Shawn. Despite all of Henry’s lessons, his son isn’t intimidating. He’s not scary. He’s not dangerous.

… He’s also not so…

Dead-eyed.

He slams the door of his truck closed, and just before he pulls out he could sweat he hears Shawn shout something.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“AHH!” Shawn grips his hands over his ears as the truck door outside slams shut, the old engine screams to life, and the radio blares as his father pulls away. His hearing had… evened out, for lack of a better term, the night before. After–

His throat is dry again.

Not as bad as last time. But he’s hungry this morning. Maybe because Lassie and Jules came in sometimes last night, and then his dad visited, and he was so close to Gus, and all of their tastes are swirling in the air like the best cocktail he could ever dream of–

He clamps his mouth shut and stops breathing. As freaky as it is to not breathe and be fine, he has to admit it’s useful. It wouldn’t need to be useful if he wasn’t hungry, and he wouldn’t be hungry if he wasn’t a vampire, and if he wasn’t a vampire he would still need to breathe–

Gus taps his arm, giving him a concerned look. Right. Big breakdown last night. Promises he would speak up when he needed help. Lots of crying and opening up while he shoved some information so deep down inside himself it’s probably carved into his bones now.

He clears his throat. “So, uh… about my dad–”

“We know you were just doing what you had to, Shawn,” Jules says softly. “We know your dad wouldn’t be… receptive, to this whole thing.”

“Hell, I’m still wondering if I’m willing to be in on it.”

“Lassie. At this point you could only be out of it if you got amnesia.” Or if Shawn made him forget. Can he do that? If he can make someone calm down, go away, follow him… can he make someone forget something? Or… remember something not real? That’d be pretty useful, actually, if someone ever catches him.

… Catches him doing what? He’s going to get blood from clients, so… nothing bad anymore. It’ll be all above board. Smooth sailing for the rest of eternity lonely eternity–

He sucks in a breath as another wave of longing crashes over him. Smooth whiskey, rich warmth, sweet honey, bitter aftertaste, they all assault him with equal force to the longing as he breathes in. It leaves him dizzy. He falls back onto the couch. He thinks he’s gasping. He should stop. The scents and tastes keep drawing in. His throat is dryer and dryer and hungrier and hungrier–

Slap!

“Carlton!”

“He wasn’t responsive!”

“You can’t just slap him!”

“I know that now, god–!” Shawn stares as Lassie grips his wrist and flaps his hand in pain.

Lassie slapped him. It hurt Lassie. He feels the warmth of Lassie’s hand still lingering on his skin. He doesn’t feel the sting.

“Shawn.” Gus is shaking his shoulder. Shawn blinks. He feels… floaty.

“Shawn, what happened?” Gus shakes him again. “Was that a vision or something?”

“Uh…” Shawn almost takes a breath, but the first taste hits his… not even his tongue. Just hits him. He stops breathing again. “Yeah. Vision.”

“Of what?” Jules is wrapping Lassie’s hand. Did it hurt that bad? “That was intense, Shawn. You just started hyperventilating and staring at nothing.”

“Uh…” Shawn looks around the room for anything to center a fake vision around, but his eyes keep going to pulse points. He swallows. “It was– it was hazy. I couldn’t make it out well, I think– I think it might’ve been a murder. Drowning.”

“Okay, well, we’ll… call you if we get anything?” Jules kneels down, looking up to meet Shawn’s eyes. “Do you… want that?”

“Yes.” The answer jumps out of him without allowing time for a thought.

“Shawn.” That’s Gus’s scolding tone. Where would Shawn be without years of that tone? Probably dead– well, more dead. Less dead? Is he more dead or less dead as a vampire? Probably less. It doesn’t feel like Less.

“Gus–”

“We talked last night about you taking some time to process this.”

“Well, I just had a vision of someone drowning, so clearly the spirit realm disagrees.” Why is he fighting for this? He did agree he needs to spend time processing. It felt like it wasn’t him agreeing. Has he actually done or said anything since this all started? These kinds of questions are why he needs time away. He can’t take time away. He shouldn’t distract himself and never think about the problem. He can’t think about the problem.

“Spencer. Stay out of the station, get a handle on all of this, or I’ll tie you to your bed myself.”

“Oh Lassie. It’s funny how you think that’s a threat.”

“Joke all you want, Spencer. But I mean it. I… don’t want to see you… like them.” 

“Like the– … Oh.” The cult. Heartless. Guiltless. Inhuman. “Lassie, man, I won’t… I already said I want you guys to help me not fall into that, right?”

“Yeah. And then you spent a whole day alone because you convinced us to leave.”

“I didn’t mean–”

“Guster, are you feeling up for watching him today?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. If your… vision, turns into something real… we’ll think about calling you.”

Shawn’s not sure if he’s relieved or not.

[adobe-outdesign]

please can you review tuskaninnies?

Tuskaninnies, unironically, don't have tusks, and are honestly more seal than walrus all around. They're also pretty literally just seals without a whole lot else going on with them, minus a white muzzle and fingers, plus a tuft of fur on their heads.

I'm not gonna lie, I don't really like the fur—I once heard someone say Tuskaninnys look like 50-year-old balding men, and yeah, that's really the vibe they give off. The reason is that while seals have short fur, adding a big clump of it to the head makes the rest of the body look naked by comparison. (The muzzle looking vaguely like a 5 o'clock shadow does not help matters.) Maybe if the hair was just a little zig-zag in front instead of a separate piece and the same color as their body fur it would help. I also kind of wish there was white somewhere else on their bodies, maybe on their underbellies or something.

Tuskaninnies haven't changed much with customization, other than being forced to sit upright more.

Favorite Colours:

Spotted: Nothing fancy, but you really can't go wrong with a leopard seal. The colors and spots are lovely, and the addition of the underbelly really highlights what I was saying about the species as a whole needing the muzzle color over more of their body.

Royal Boy: Maybe it is just that balding middle aged man look, but the royal boy Tuskaninny being Henry VIII is both really funny and way too fitting for whatever reason. It also looks pretty good, sporting a nice purple and red palette with just the right amount of detail. Only complaint is that the beard wrapping around the muzzle really doesn't look right; it should be under the 3 part directly.

The only con is that the royal girl doesn't look half as good. They could've modeled it after one of Henry VIII's many, many wives or something to keep with the concept. But even putting that aside, the bright turquoise base looks really out of place and there's too much pink in the design, which blends into the hair color. The only thing I do like is that the dress wraps over the tail to form a bustle.

Faerie: The faerie Tuskaninny mostly gets a spot because instead of just having generic butterfly wings, it instead has more fin-like wings that feel appropriate for a seal—which in turn makes it resemble a flying fish a bit, which is pretty neat. I also like the warm color palette and the additional hair on the UC/styled version, which feels less out-of-place than usual. The UC/styled pose is great, but the converted is pretty accurate.

My only complaint is that I wish there was more of that red-orange color on the rest of the body, as the bulk of it is a bit too plain. It feels like the tail tip should be the darkest orange on the wings, and then there should be another layer of lighter orange running up the entire tail to balance the colors and to match the wings.

BONUS: Hey look, a Tuskaninny that actually has tusks! This mutant is pretty fun, having a more walrus-like look with a shriveled up tail and an anglerfish light for good measure. It's got a great personality to it as well.

[fizzingwizard]

Now I've finished reading Mansfield Park, which I expected to slog through, but instead it held my interest nearly the entire time. The one exception was the long exchange of letters after Fanny goes to Portsmouth. Then I was taking longer to get through each chapter, and the ending, of course, is as Austenian as I could expect.

Mansfield Park doesn't have the charm or wit of other Austen novels. I had put it off because I read that "no one is likable," and I don't usually have a taste for stories where everyone is just bad and miserable. But having read it, I don't think those critics were justified. Mansfield Park isn't about an unlikable group of characters. It's just that they are very flawed. And a lot of real life is hard to like, but you don't have many friends if you will only approve of paragons of virtue.

Is Fanny meant to be the paragon of virtue? was the question running through my mind. Most Austen heroines are not as perfect as they're accused of being - the only one who really fits that description, in my opinion, is Anne Elliot. (And I could go on about why that doesn't bother me at all and that the world of literature deserves an Anne Elliot or two, but back to Fanny.) Fanny confused me for the longest time. I couldn't tell if she was virtuous and pure, or naive and pathetic. I think for most of the novel she's something of both, and what really kept me gripped was feeling desperate to know whether she'd turn out as awful as the rest. It's an Austen novel, I figured there was no way she wouldn't turn out okay, but honestly I was in suspense sometimes lol, as much suspense as you can be when instead of the threat of an ax murderer hiding under the stairs, the threat is winding up rich and bitter.

My final opinion of Fanny is that I like her in a similar way that I like Anne Elliot. There are a couple lines, about the importance of "knowing your mind," and "being guided by what's in your own self," that made me see more strength in Fanny. She is essentially friendless. And she's much younger than Anne, and she's so criticized and taken advantage of, and so without warmth. So many times I thought "if only she had a backbone," and my fear was that Austen would validate her timidity and loneliness as the virtue of "female abnegation" :P But although there are the usual Austen morals, she doesn't do that - instead she gives us Susan, who does have pluck and backbone, and makes Fanny admire her for it and wish she'd had some too when she was first sent to Mansfield. And contrasting Mary Crawford with Fanny is what made me like Mary, and worry that Fanny might be the first Austen heroine to really be disappointed in love. If Fanny had some of Mary's liveliness and confidence, maybe Edmund would have noticed her. And if Mary had Fanny's good judgment, maybe she would have had Edmund in the end. I think the contrasting traits in Fanny and Mary Crawford are some of my favorites in Austen novels, because they're so real and developed that I couldn't tell for a while who was going to come out ahead.

Fanny is everything "good" in an Austen heroine, but her flaws are still real. And Mansfield Park doesn't beat around the bush when it comes to how easily she could have wound up a villain instead of a heroine. If Edmund had married Mary, Fanny would probably have married Henry and been miserable, because despite all the blabber about "she would have fixed him," I think he would have gone right on cheating and breaking her heart. Austen had more faith in Henry Crawford than I do, lol.

As for the rest of the cast, apart from Mrs Norris, I don't think anyone is hateful. But they don't have warmth, they don't have real affection. That is palpable in the novel and reminded me over and over how much I wished Fanny had a friend. When William appeared, I braced myself for his betrayal - but although he's not around much, he ended up being her true friend. I could almost wish he wasn't her brother because he treated her much better than Edmund did. William knew how to show love. If he had been brought to Mansfield Park when Fanny was, maybe Fanny would not have fallen in love with Edmund, because she would have already had a best friend who could definitely never become a romantic option.

But although the lack of warmth is so terrible, that's what I mean when I say the novel is real. I think the lack of concern for their so-called loved ones the characters show, as well as the biases and prejudices that are inconvenient for them to shed, are exactly how many families really are. Taking each other for granted, seeing each other how you wish to, and being mostly concerned about whether or not someone is useful to you personally. It sounds cynical, and there are many loving, caring families who are nowhere near as selfish as the Bertrams or the Crawfords or even the Prices. But there are many which are. And I like the way the novel made it felt. Rather than make the abuse obvious through violence and threats, the coldness is covered up by decorum, which makes it even more insidious and long-lasting. I was really sad, just deeply sad for Fanny in many places, every time I wished she had someone who would listen to her and side with her the way everyone else expected her to do for them. I'm nowhere near as virtuous as Fanny, but I know how much it sucks to bite your tongue over and over, and when you finally tell the truth, to be told that you don't know your own feelings, or you're just too ignorant to understand what you should feel, or that your judgments are wrong because it's currently convenient to the other person that they should be wrong. Sometimes I was identifying so much with Fanny that I had to stop reading. It's not gaslighting - that term is too strong. But it is inconsiderate. I was lucky because I always had a listener in my mom. She may not always understand me, but she listens and respects me. I never have to worry that what I say may set her off the way I did with my dad and brother. Lately my dad's been much better with me, which I truly appreciate - but I also can't forget him telling me that I shouldn't be insulted that he thinks opinions like mine are "stupid, because "I know you're smart enough to one day agree with me!"

Which, weirdly, brings me to Edmund... I was on the fence about him the whole time. At first he seemed like he WAS Fanny's friend, the kind older brother figure who cared about her happiness. After a while I started to suspect that he was more about the appearance of charity than about really being kind. I suspected him of betraying me and becoming exactly the kind of clergyman Mary denigrated. But other times he would do or say something that made me change my mind, and decide that he's not fake, he's just flawed. Being flawed is much better than being fake. My number one issue with him was when Fanny turned down Henry's proposal, and Edmund, despite saying he wouldn't try to sway Fanny's feelings, winds up doing just that - because it's convenient for him to think of the Crawfords as good people, because the theater debacle was embarrassing to think back on, and because he admires Fanny's judgment, so if she judges Henry Crawford good enough to marry, he'd no longer need to have scruples about marrying Mary. It was the most selfish he ever was with regard to Fanny. It really made me feel he could never love her, and even opened me up to the idea that Henry might, actually, be Fanny's endgame match, lol. Because Henry seemed to notice all the things no one else did about how lonely and uncared for Fanny was, and even to encourage her to find her voice. It was literally Fanny pointed out that how could she trust a man who had taken advantage of the feelings of not one but two of her cousins before immediately redirecting his flirting on her to make me realize "no way, it's definitely going to be Edmund, lol."

Henry's better than Wickham, but not by a lot. Edmund, however, is a far cry from Mr Darcy. I wish very much that Mansfield Park ended in some way to make me like Edmund better, because right now the best I can say about him is that he's not as silly as his siblings, and he is at least capable of real love. It's hard to hear the wedding bells because as far as I can see, the Edmund Fanny loves is his childhood self, and the grown up version hasn't really done much to deserve her. He's more commendable for not doing things to not deserve her, lol. Their relationship is probably the least romantic of any in Austen's novels, imo. Fanny really loved him, and there was a lot of romantic pain in watching him fall for someone else. But by the time he finally sees Fanny, the novel is over... xD This is not a criticism though... I was really intrigued to find out how each character would turn out in the end. And the only thing I'll say which is sort of disappointing is that everything turned out how I predicted it in the beginning, aka like an Austen novel. But even though the Crawfords and Edmund didn't develop more as characters, I still appreciate how much complexity they add. Like, they made me guess about an Austen novel, haha. And in retrospect I shouldn't have, because I knew the finale from the curtain rise. But still. They made me guess. They almost, almost made me believe Mary would be rehabilitated and Fanny would give in to poor judgment. Hehe.

If anything, I appreciate this novel for food for thought, ie imagining all the different stories it could have been. I like that one way of life, the rich, performative lifestyles of Mansfield Park, is shown warts and all - and then we're taken down to Portsmouth only to find it's warty in similar ways, just with less polish. It makes you a little more sympathetic to mercenary marriage vows. Like, if I'm going to be miserable, I might as well be miserable in comfort, haha. But of course the novel doesn't posit that either. If Fanny had gone to Portsmouth and found her family humble but full of love and wisdom, there'd be a completely different outcome. Or if she went to Portsmouth, realized how much better things were at Mansfield, went back and informed readers that she had been overly sensitive thus far and actually everyone in Mansfield was so kind, and Mrs Norris just misunderstood - then again we'd have a totally different outcome. We get neither. It's just the world the way it is. Being poor comes with challenges and being rich comes with advantages. But happiness isn't a guarantee either way.

Well, I liked Mansfield Park much more than I was expecting to. I'm really shocked by how invested I got when at first I really thought Fanny might be the Austen heroine to finally make me say "enough is enough!" But Austen is too good, I can't hate her characters at all. She's able to give so much depth, or at least familiarity, to every one of them that they're just too human for something as base as hate. I even gave up wishing Fanny would find her voice and just wished she'd find a friend. And in the end, I'd say that IS what she got, even more than a husband - the friendship of her brother and sister and even Sir Thomas, as well as the loss of the anti-friend Mrs Norris. If any Austen heroine ever suffered so much for being alone, it's Fanny Price. That to me is the real source of her final happiness. And since Austen nearly always gives her heroines a sister or a best friend or some trusted confidante, the lack of one in Mansfield Park has to be intentional, and so I don't think Austen would disagree with me.

[bootswiththefir]

firewatch is such a beautiful story, and I think it's sad that it goes unappreciated by so many. but also funny. hilarious, actually. because all of the most common criticisms of its narrative present such a fundamental misunderstanding of what it is, that they feel like an extension of the game's story.

the game is, in my reading, primarily about escapism. the pov character, henry, has been losing touch with his wife, who has early onset dementia, and understandably wants to just run away to the woods for a few months. the other major characters show different extremes of escapism: the healthy delilah has done firewatch each summer for years, and keeps it clearly divided from her normal life, but when reality came crashing down on the unhealthy ned goodwin, he rejected it, and chose to disappear into the wild for years.

in the wild, henry seeks an entirely new life. that's why he's so adverse to talking about his wife, and starts getting flirtatious with delilah. and for a time, he is given that new life. it's exciting! an adventure! most clearly through what seems to be a government conspiracy slowly piecing together.

but the most interesting part of the game is how it subverts this. towards the climax, mysteries begin resolving themselves; the intrigue of Secret Government Stuff proves too good to be true. much like ned, henry is forced to face reality. even if he tries to cling to his new life, and connect with delilah in the broader world, she rejects him. she urges him to instead return to julia. it isn't clear exactly what choice henry makes, but he inevitably returns to his normal life (a nice touch I like is the visual resemblance of the credits sequence to the introductory exposition of henry's relationship).

the game's ending so clearly, so intentionally does not satisfy what it was setting up, and common critiques of the game refuse to recognise the beauty in that. this subversion demands that any reading be reconsidered to accommodate the ending, but far more often it isn't respected: subversion is not seen as a story being recontextualised, it is a failure to fulfil the reader's expectations.

much discussion around the game is rooted in wanting more. maybe if I take the right pictures I can prove the conspiracy. maybe if I'm quick enough in the ending I can speak to delilah in person. by refusing to consider what the ending is, and instead focusing on what it could be, a lot of players fall into henry's exact mental trap. they look for more at the firewatch - cling to the new life - but unlike henry, they refuse the call of reality. they hide away in the woods, searching for the secret delilah sex ending. they resemble ned far more than henry.

like an ambiguous ending, a subversion forces the reader to engage with the text. what firewatch unfortunately proved is that a lot of gamers aren't ready for that.

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Bengiyo's Queer Media Syllabus

For those who are not aware, I have decided to run the gauntlet of @bengiyo’s Queer Cinema Syllabus and have officially started Unit 1: Coming of Age Post Moonlight. The films in Unit 1 are Pariah (2011), Get Real (1998), Edge of Seventeen (1998), My Own Private Idaho (1991), and Mysterious Skin (2004)

Today I will be writing about 

My Own Private Idaho (1991) dir. Gus Van Sant

[Available for rent on: Amazon, YouTube. Run Time- 1:44]

Summary: In this loose adaptation of Shakespeare's "Henry IV," Mike Waters is a gay hustler afflicted with narcolepsy. Scott Favor is the rebellious son of a mayor. Together, the two travel from Portland, Oregon to Idaho and finally to the coast of Italy in a quest to find Mike's estranged mother. Along the way they turn tricks for money and drugs, eventually attracting the attention of a wealthy benefactor and sexual deviant. (from Just Watch)

Cast:  River Phoenix as Mike a homeless queer male sex worker with narcolepsy Keanu Reeves as Scott the mayor’s son, “homeless” sex worker who is friends with Mike William Richert as Bob, I don’t have any other way to describe him besides this character is Falstaff in Henry IV. 

Content Warning: mentions of sexual assault, prostitution, conversations around incest. homelessness.

So the first thing before we start, if you are planning on watching this film you have to remember this is based on Henry IV by Shakespeare. Because if you forget that (like I did until about 40 minutes in) there is going to be dialogue that makes you go “no one talks like this?????” (which honestly was not a bad thing, but remembering that it was Shakespeare did stop me from going down way too deep a rabbit hole about reality and unreality so…thank you brain! Now, unfortunately, I have not read Henry IV and also unfortunately I will not read Henry IV for the sake of being better able to analyze this film. 

In hindsight, Scott is a dick and the film so perfectly sets up/foreshadows how we are going to get to where we end up with Scott, but as it is happening, it feels like a massive, unexpected punch in the gut the second you see him back from Italy, in a nice suit, in a nice car, driving blindly past his old pal Mike, who is collapsed in a sleep attack on the sidewalk. 

I always love when media humanizes homeless, drug user, and sex worker communities so for me watching this film, that was a huge win. Unhoused folk, drug users, and sex workers are so fucking dehumanized in my society, and frequently blamed for their own life conditions, and considering the statistics on how many homeless people in the US are queer, and particularly how many queer youth are on the streets, it is particularly important to me that film, queer film especially, allows its audience to love, root for, and mourn for homeless queer people. 

Gif by @camyfilms

I like that you don't really know exactly how Mike got to where he is. But there is enough context with the flashbacks we get and his medical condition to understand any number of ways that Mike ends up unhoused. I think it is particularly notable that there are multiple moments in the film where a house or other form of stable shelter is destroyed in his mind. Where I appreciate not really know exactly how Mike became homeless, because in a way it feels like his entire life was set up so that was the only inevitable outcome. Scott, however, I have no idea how he got to where he is, homeless and doing sex work, when he is set to inherit his father’s fortune soon. 

And looking back at how the entire story plays out, knowing that Scott will eventually abandon Mike to pursue a love interest and wealth, it makes a lot more sense as to why we never truly find out how he got there. Because for Scott, it doesn’t fucking matter. Because for Scott, he is playing at being homeless. This is a funny little game for him, he can give a middle finger to his father and act out, and struggle for as long as it is entertaining and fun, knowing that at any point he can return home, shape up his behavior, and have more money then he knows what to do with. 

Which is why I am truly and deeply obsessed with the fact that Scott wears a suit when he is amongst the other unhoused folk he is living with. Because of how much that visually separates him. I like that it is serving as a reminder of his status and almost like a reminder to himself that he is actually separate from everyone else here. And this theme is repeated in how Scott interacts with his father too. Because, while he wears a suit when amongst the unhoused, when he is summoned before his father, he dresses with a collar, and denim jacket without a shirt on underneath. Visually he looks a lot more like the other members of the community he has been running with, and that literally only happens so that he can get a rise out of his father. 

gifs by @vintageblr

And that playing at oppression aspect of Scott’s character is marked so clear by the line he says near the end: "I think I need to take a break for awhile" or whatever the exact wording is, when he meets a girl in Italy and sends Mike home. Scott has money, and while a part of me still believes that Scott cares about Mike, he doesn't love Mike. So the second that Scott has something that he loves, something that he wants, he pumps the brakes on the struggle bus and puts an end to his life of sleeping rough and engaging in sex work. 

And like I said before, while I felt hurt and betrayed and pissed the fuck off when Scott drove by Mike on the street, looking back at the entire film, the signs have been clear from the beginning. Because Scott is never going to be able to give Mike what he wants, at any level, in any capacity. Scott promises that he will share the wealth with the community when he inherits the money, he has the means, motive, and opportunity to perform such an action. He has the ability by the end to give Mike the support that he needs. To help him get on his feet, but he never does it. 

Even just by way of Mike being in love with Scott and Scott being straight and not being able to give Mike what he wants.

I will be thinking for way too long about the way that Scott stares at the ruckus everyone is making at Bob's funeral. Because, I don't know, I feel like there is almost a part of him that is longing to be there. That is missing it a little bit, or maybe feeling a little guilty. At least, that is how I am reading it as someone that worked with and considered myself friends with unhoused people. When I stopped working that job, I lost all connection with them, and the last time I got to see any of my friends again…was at a funeral. 

When discussing my thoughts on this film with @bengiyo and @emotionallychargedtowel I was really cycling back and forth between where I landed in believing that Scott cared at all for the people he lived among for years. 

Like there are shitty people who are homeless, sure, but there are also so many really wonderful people who are homeless, and there is no way that Scott, even as a rich bitch that was playing at poverty, did not forge genuine connections with people. At one point, he was sitting in a diner, comforting a woman who was upset. Do you know how many times I've seen that?

And when I started saying that I did believe that Scott cared in part for Mike, I was slammed with a visceral memory of Scott leaving Mike out in the cold, to sleep on some random guy’s lawn while he went back in to town. 

gif by @thejingshi

That said, he gave a reasoning of Mike being safer sleeping in that wealthy neighborhood with no one else around, then he would have been back in town. And similarly too, Scott holds on to Mike's half of the motorbike sales fund until it is time to send him away and also...he doesn’t give Mike all the money cause EVEN THOUGH SCOTT DOESN'T NEED IT! 

I don't think he fully could have not cared. If he fully didn't care, I don't think the moments of tenderness would exist. 

I don't think Scott would have gone to fucking Idaho

I don't think he would have been staring off the way that he was at the funeral

But you can't even get into the thought of like, Scott has strict rules to follow now that he has the inheritance money. But like…

No he doesn't.

His Dad is dead, and he has the money, what is anyone gonna do if he doesn't act like a refined gentleman? Nothing.

God I want to punch this man. 

At the very least Scott and Mike were friends. 

gif by @peeta

gif by @thejingshi

And so whether or not Scott gave a flying fuck about anyone else in that community, there is someone that he cared about, that he left to rot because it was more convenient for him. And I’d like to think Scott has to face that a bit during the funeral scene. Cause based on the way that it was shot, it looks like Mike is staring straight at Scott, but when we get the shot from Scott's POV, you can only see like the barest tops of heads and chairs flying so I don't even know that Scott and Mike

And the ending of the movie? God, heartbreaking. This whole film just made me see so many echoes of people I care about, having shit luck their entire lives, ending up on the streets, getting in to sex work of some kind, casually referencing their latest rape by a client, maybe having things be good for awhile (getting housing, getting reconnected with someone they care about, getting accepted in to school) and then just having that ripped away from them. Getting their shit stolen. 

And on the other side of it too like, being connected, talking with one another, taking care of each other. All the times that someone has been having a particularly bad day, and before I could even go over and talk to them and check in, someone else from the community swoops in comfort them, and make sure they were doing okay. 

I loved this movie. I think everyone should watch it. 

By/For/About?

The Gay Trifecta! 

We know that this is an About Queers film, because Mike is queer.

By Queers: I'm not 100% certain if the director is gay, it didn't say it explicitly anywhere, but he is behind a number of keystone queer films, and I think I saw an interview about gay activism that involved him.

For Queers: This is a story about the struggles of being a queer man, among other things. But I think the center of, loving a man you know can never love you back, and being fucked over by that in the end reads very much as for a queer audience.

Favorite Moment: 

Everyone going buck fucking wild at Bob's funeral. It was such a moment of unrestrained energy, and I like it all the more for what it did to Scott.

Favorite Quote:

gif by @magnusedom

"I really want to kiss you, man."

If you know, you know. If you don't, watch the movie so you too can understand how devastating that line is.

9.5/10 Film

[dogboyjackkennedy]

okay screw it, i'm doing it anyway

so, my friends, get ready for my AU Version of Blackjack. or, as he is also known:

The Physical Manifestation of The Tragedy of The Kennedy Siblings.

so, to give you an idea of how that ended up being one of his titles, let me go step-by-step with this:

when Jack first died, Blackjack first formed as a skin and bones, pale purple dog. he looked small too, like he was also not a full grown dog, either. yet another odd thing about him: his eyes were entirely white, and he had similar white tear tracks falling down his face. he looked...uncanny, to say the least.

he hung around Fredbear's for a little bit and ran into Dee. upon learning about what had happened to her, he grew angry. really angry. sure, Jack had checked the camera footage before he died and saw Henry leading her to the back, and thus had a clue of what happened...but now he knew for sure. and not only that, he knows details of what that SADISTIC FUCK did to his dear sister.

and he was pissed.

as more and more murders piled up over the years, Blackjack started turning a deeper and deeper purple, to the point he appeared to be a shadowy black color. it was almost like he was a Sponge of Suffering for Freddy's. his body was almost fog-like in the way it worked and appeared, wisps of his fur coming off of his body like smoke. his eyes glowed, and his tears actually felt wet. however, those that touched them discovered that the tears were scalding hot, as though they were heated by hellfire itself. every bark the dog released sounded angry, threatening, even if he was clearly happy or calm.

customers began to view Blackjack as Death Itself, coming to guide the souls of the missing children to the afterlife. oh, how Blackjack wishes that were his purpose.

(no, that job has been delegated to someone else)

it is after Peter dies that something...changes.

Peter, as he died, saw a shadowy dog run up to the Saferoom door after Henry closed it. the dog clawed on the door, snarling and growling at the man behind it. he sounded enraged, like he was cursing Henry out for his crimes, for even daring to hurt Peter or those children. Peter believed that this dog would guide him to the afterlife. he believed it to be Sparky.

(years later, as he recounts the story to Jack as a Phone Guy, he doesn't understand why Jack has an unnerved look on his face as he mentions the dog. the dog didn't seem bad; it actually seemed to want to help. so why does he act like the dog being there was a bad thing?)

Peter's death changed Blackjack. his every breath came out as a growl, he'd watch Henry from a distance, glaring at him and growling at him if he ever got to close. his words were garbled, and very few could understand the words with perfect clarity. but...something else happened, something that disturbed customers even more. the dog would howl, and a sound that many could only describe as "screams of the damned" would accompany it. however, some could pick out three distinct "voices" from the screaming.

a young girl, screaming bloody murder as she begged for two men, her brothers, most likely. a man, groaning in pain along with the sound of metal scraping on tile. the sound that rose above the other two, however, was the sound of another young man screaming in agony quite suddenly, only for it to be cut off as the other two rang out like an echo.

Henry just politely ignored Blackjack's existence. he wouldn't mess with Blackjack if Blackjack didn't mess with him.

after all, why would he bother with the spirit of a dog?

and then 1983 happened. he had simply stayed after hours to clean up after...well, simply put, some kids decided to shove a young boy in Fredbear's mouth.

he remembered hearing the sound of angry snarling behind him. he whipped around, only to find it standing behind him. Blackjack was growling and snarling at him, looking about ready to pounce and tear him to shreds where he stands. the dog howls, and suddenly Henry learns what everyone meant by "screams of the damned."

he hears them clearly. he recognizes at least two of the voices: a girl he murdered and a man whose death he was responsible for. the third...the third he didn't recognize, but was one he had a hunch about, given the context of the other two.

it was the voice of a man he left to die.

(he remembers. he remembers looking that man in the eyes as his life was slipping away from him. he remembers how that man looked up at him, and with all of the voice the man had left, he wheezed out "h..elp...m..e....." Henry remembers laughing in the man's face as he left him to die.)

(Henry remembers returning to that accursed suit and finding it blood-soaked....but scarily empty. because it shouldn't be empty, it's literally impossible for it to be. he was the only one who knew about...him. so how...?)

it hits Henry, the voices he's hearing.

Dee. Peter. Jack.

The Kennedy Siblings.

Henry doesn't get much time to process what that all must mean. he steps back from the clearly aggressive dog. turns out that small movement was a mistake.

Blackjack lunges at him, barking wildly and snarling. Henry braces himself; he'd not sure what a ghost dog would be capable of doing to a person.

he feels pain as the dog sinks its teeth into his skin, and he feels himself...sink? what-?

he finds himself in a place he could only describe as...The Void. he finds the dog standing in front of him, still snarling and growling at him. but...then something unexpected happened.

Blackjack spoke. and Henry knew exactly who this was.

he doesn't know why Jack's soul took the form of a dog. it's something he's never really seen before. with the exception of Dee (she'd take the form of either the puppet she was trapped in, or a regular human-shaped ghost). but....an animal? he'd never seen that before.

regardless, Blackjack practically cusses him out, angry about what Henry had done. to his sister, to his brother, to him. Henry left him to die. he framed him for his sister's murder. he killed everyone he loved.

but he wasn't going to kill him, not yet, anyway. death was too good for him, in Blackjack's eyes.

he left him to rot, believing that, eventually, enough time in The Void would cause Henry to die. because maybe he would still age. maybe he would start to waste away. something.

...safe to say, he was wrong.

it somehow made him stronger.

anyway, there's the timeline 'til about...maybe around DSAF 1? i dunno.

but yeah! Blackjack basically absorbs the Suffering Vibes™ at Freddy's locations and it ended up fueling him and his rage. he got fueled more by Dee and Peter's deaths, hence him being the embodiment/physical manifestation of The Tragedy of the Kennedy Siblings.

also, i did a Minor rewrite of how Blackjack works. i somewhat based him off of how i write Cassidy in the Fnaf Canon: Angry, Vengeful Older Sibling Who Lost Their Loved Ones AND Their Life To The Same Man, Who Lashes Out In Anger At What Happened, And Ends Up Making Bad Decisions In Order To Get Vengeance For Their Murder.

i mean. Jack was a young adult who had his younger sister get murdered by a man who (potentially at this point) was his boss, got framed for her murder, and then was left to die by that same boss. like...realistically speaking, while Blackjack might act all mysterious and wise (and to a certain extent he is), he's really just the soul or a scared, angry, and vengeful young man whose life was ruined for effectively no real reason. so i wanted that to come across more.