#i used the richard ii kiss as a reference because it is just so good

[dustedmagazine]

Punk’d History, Vol. VIII: This Machine [blank] Fascists

Photo by Richard Young

It has the appearance of a worrisome pattern: any number of punk rock’s founding figures embraced the symbolics of Nazi Germany. Ron Asheton, an original and indispensable member of the Stooges, played a number of gigs wearing a red swastika armband, and liked to sport Iron Cross medals and a Luftwaffe-style leather jacket. Sid Vicious loved his bright scarlet, swastika-emblazoned tee shirt, and Siouxsie Sioux, during her tenure as the It-Girl of the Bromley Contingent, mixed her breast-baring, black leather bondage gear with a bunch of “Nazi chic.” And how many early Ramones songs (inevitably penned by Dee Dee) referenced Nazi gear, concepts and geography? “Blitzkrieg Bop,” “Today Your Love, Tomorrow the World,” “Commando,” “It’s a Long Way Back to Germany,” “All’s Quiet on the Eastern Front,” and so on—for sure, more than a few.

“Appearance” is the key term. Poor Sid lacked the sobriety and smarts to have much of a grasp of fascism as an ideology. Siouxsie was just taking the piss, and gleefully pissing off the mid-1970s British general public, for much of whom World War II was still a living memory. Asheton and Dee Dee? Both were sons of hyper-masculine military men. Asheton’s father was a collector of WWII artefacts, and the guitarist shared his father’s fascination. When the Stooges adopted an ethos and aesthetic hostile to the late-1960s prevailing Flower Power rock’n’roll subculture, the Nazi accoutrement seemed to him fitting signs of the band’s anger and alienation. Dee Dee hated his father, an abusive Army officer who married a German woman. Dee Dee spent some of his youth in post-war West Germany, in which Nazi symbols were highly charged with anxiety and vituperation. Casual veneration of Nazis was a convenient way to reject the triumphal ennobling of the Good War, and of the military men associated with its traditions. And (as Sid, Siouxsie and Asheton also noticed) it really bothered the squares. 

None of that makes the superficial use of the swastika or phrases like “Nazi schatzi” any less offensive — it simply underscores that in the cases noted above, the offense was the thing. The politics weren’t even an afterthought, because the political itself had been dismissed as corrupt, boring or simply the native territory of the very people the punks were striking out against. If that’s where the relation between punk and fascism ceased, there wouldn’t be much more to write about.

The post-punk moment in England provided opportunities to rethink and restrategize the nascent détournement of Siouxsie’s fashionable provocations. Genesis P-Orridge and the rest of Throbbing Gristle were a brainy bunch, and their play with fascist signifiers was a good deal more complex. The band’s logo and their occasional appearance in gun-metal grey uniforms clearly alluded to Nazism, with its attendant, keen interests in occult symbols and High Modernist representational languages. TG’s visual gestures were also of a piece with an early band slogan: “Industrial music for industrial people.” Clearly “industrial people” can be read as a highly ironized coupling: the oppressed workers marching through the bowels of Metropolis were a sort of industrial people, reduced to the functionality of pure human capital. TG seemed to impose the same analysis on the middle-managers of Britain’s post-industrial economy, and their uncritical complicity in capital’s cruelties. But it’s also possible to argue that industrial people are industrious people; like TG, industrial people (middle managers, MPs) can get a lot of stuff done. They can produce things. They can make the trains run on time. And what sorts of cargo might those trains be carrying? What variety of conveyance delivered the naked “little Jewish girl” of “Zyklon B Zombies” to her fate?  

To be clear: I don’t mean at all to suggest that TG was a fascist band. Like their punky contemporaries, TG traded in fascist iconography in a spirit of transgressive outrage, expressing their hot indignation with equally heated symbols. And other British post-punk acts flirted with fascist themes and images, ranging from ambiguous dalliance (Joy Division’s overt references to Yehiel De-Nur’s House of Dolls and to Rudolph Hess; and just what was the inspiration for Death in June’s band name?) to more assertive satire (see Current 93’s appealingly bonkers Swastikas for Noddy [LAYLAH Antirecords, 1988]). But a more problematic populist undercurrent in British punk persisted through the late 1970s. The dissolution of Sham 69—due in large part to the National Front’s attempts to appropriate the band’s working-class anger as a form of white pride—opened the way for a clutch of clueless, cynical or outright racist Oi! bands to attempt to impose themselves as the face of blue-collar English punk. And literally so: the Strength through Oi! compilation LP (Decca Records, 1981) featured notorious British Movement activist Nicky Crane on its cover. It didn’t help that the record’s title seemed to allude to the Nazis’ “Strength through Joy [Kraft durch Freude]” propaganda initiative.  

Of course, it’s unfair to tar all Oi! bands with an indiscriminate brush. A few bands whose songs were opportunistically stuck onto Strength through Oi! by the dullards at Decca Records — Cock Sparrer and the excellent Infa Riot — tended leftward in their politics, and were anything but racists. But for a lot of the disaffected kids sucking down pints of Bass and singing in the Shed at Stamford Bridge, it wasn’t much of a leap from the punk pathetique of the Toy Dolls to Skrewdriver’s poisonous palaver.  

In the States, a similarly complicated story can be recovered:

In numerous ways, hardcore intensified punk’s confrontational qualities, musically and aesthetically. The New York hardcore scene made a fetish of its inherent violence, which complemented the music’s sharpened impact. So it’s hard to know precisely what to make of the photo on the cover of Victim in Pain (Rat Cage Records, 1984). If inflicting violence was an essential element of belonging in the NYHC scene, with whom to identify: the Nazi with the pistol, or the abject Ukrainian Jewish man, on his knees and about to tumble into the mass grave?  

Agnostic Front seemed to provide a measure of clarity on the record, which included the song “Fascist Attitudes.” The lyric uses “fascist” as a condemnatory term. But the behaviors the song engages as evidence of fascism are intra-scene acts of violence: “Why should you go around bashing one another? […] / Learning how to respect each other is a must / So why start a war of anger, danger among us?” That’s a rhetoric familiar to anyone who participated in early-1980s hardcore; calls for scene unity were ubiquitous, and the theme is obsessively addressed on Victim in Pain. But the signs of inclusivity most visibly celebrated on the NYHC records and show flyers of the period were a skinhead’s white, shaven pate; black leather, steel-toe boots; and heavily muscled biceps. Those signifiers clearly link to the awful cover image of Strength through Oi! The forms of identity recognized and concretized in the songs’ first-person inclusive pronouns have a clear referent. 

Agnostic Front wasn’t the only NYHC band to refer to and engage World War Two-period fascism. Queens natives Dave Rubenstein and Paul Bakija met at Forest Hills High School—the same school at which John Cummings (Johnny) befriended Thomas Erdelyi (Tommy), laying the groundwork for the formation of the Ramones. Rubenstein and Bakija also took stage names (Dave Insurgent and Paul Cripple) and formed Reagan Youth. But unlike the Ramones, there was nothing tentative or ambivalent about Reagan Youth’s politics. Rubenstein’s parents, after all, were Holocaust survivors. The band’s name riffed on “Hitler Youth,” but specifically did so to draw associations between Reagan and Hitler, between American conservatism’s 1980s resurgence and the Nazi’s hateful, genocidal agenda. Songs like “New Aryans” and “I Hate Hate” accommodated no uncertainties.  

Still, it’s interesting that Victim in Pain and Reagan Youth’s Youth Anthems for the New Order (R Radical Records, 1984) were released only months apart, by bands in the same scene, sometimes sharing bills at CBGBs’ famous matinees of the period. And while Reagan Youth toured with Dead Kennedys, it’s Agnostic Front’s “Fascist Attitudes” that’s closer in content to the most famous punk rock putdown of Nazis.

It’s odd what comes back around: Martin Hannett, whom Biafra playfully chides at the track’s very beginning, produced much of Joy Division’s music, moving the band away from its brittle early sound to the fulsome atmospheres of the Factory records, and to a wider listenership. “Nazi Punks Fuck Off” similarly addresses a formerly obscure, tight scene opening to a greater array of participants, some of whom were attracted solely to hardcore’s reputation for violence. Like “Fascist Attitudes,” the Dead Kennedys’ song itemizes fighting at shows as its chief complaint, and as a principal marker for “Nazi” behavior. Biafra’s lyric eventually gets around to somewhat more focused ideological critique: “You still think swastikas look cool / The real Nazis run your schools / They’re coaches, businessmen, and cops / In a real fourth Reich, you’ll be the first to go.” The kiss-off to punk’s vapid romance of the swastika (it “looks cool”) complements the speculative treatment of a “real fourth Reich.” Both operate at the level of abstraction. The casual, superficial relation to the symbol’s aesthetic assumes a sort of safety from the real, material consequences of its application. And the emergence of a fascist political regime is dangled as a possible future event. That speculative futurity undoes the “real” in “real Nazis.” The threat is ultimately a metaphorical construct. The Nazis are metaphorical “Nazis.”  

Still, it’s the song’s chorus that resonates most powerfully. So much so that the song has found its way into other artworks.

Jeremy Saulnier’s Green Room (2015) is frequently identified as a horror film on streaming services. We could split hairs over that genre marker. The film gets quite graphically bloody, but there’s no psychotic slasher killer, no supernatural force at work. And cinematically, the film is a lot more interested in anxiety and dramatic tension than it is in inspiring revulsion or disgust. It terrifies, more than it horrifies. What’s especially compelling about the film (aside from Imogen Poots’ excellent performance, and Patrick Stewart’s menacing turn as charismatic fascist Darcy Banks) is its interest in embedding the viewer in a social context in which the Nazis are a lot less metaphorical, a lot more real. In Green Room, the kids in the punk band the Ain’t Rights are warned about the club they have agreed to play: “It’s mostly boots and braces down there.” And they understand the terms. What they can’t quite imagine is a room — a scene, a political Real — in which fascism is dominant. Their recognition of the stakes of the Real comes too late. The violence is already in motion. In that world, the Dead Kennedys song provides a nice slogan, but symbolic action alone is entirely inadequate.  

OK, sure, Green Room is a fiction. Its violence is necessarily aestheticized, distorted and hyperbolized. But perhaps the film’s most urgent source of horror can be located in its plausible connections to the social realities of our material, contemporary conjuncture. You don’t have to dig very deep into the Web to find thousands of records made by white nationalist and neo-fascist-allied bands, many, many of which deploy stylistic chops identified with punk rock and hardcore. You can listen. You can buy. (And yeah, I’m not going to link to any of that miserable shit, because fuck them. If you do your own digging to see what’s what, be careful. It’s scary and upsetting in there.) It feels endless. And the virulent sentiments expressed on those records are echoed in institutional politics in the US and elsewhere: Steve King (and now Marjorie Taylor Greene, effectively angling for her seat in Congress), Nigel Farage, Alternative für Deutschland, elected leadership in Poland and Hungary. Explicit white supremacist music also has somewhat more carefully coded counterparts in much more visible media (the nightly monologuing on Fox News) and in very well-positioned, prominent policy makers (Stephen Miller, who’s on the record touting “great replacement” theory and is a big fan of The Camp of the Saints). It’s a complex, ideologically coherent network, working industriously to impose and install its hateful vision as the dominant political Real. 

Sometimes it feels as if no progress at all has been made. Maybe we’re moving toward the reactionaries. Contrast Skokie in the late 1970s with Charlottesville in 2017. And now if the Neo-Nazis have licenses for their long guns, they can strut through American streets wearing them in the name of “law and order.” It’s even more disturbing that a subculture that wants to clothe itself in “revolution” and “radicalism” is so tightly in league with institutional politics. Say what you will about Siouxsie’s Nazi-fashion antics, no one suspected that her prancing echoed political activity, policy-making or messaging in Westminster.

So what’s a punk to do? It’s certain that a vigorously free society needs to preserve spaces in which unpopular speech can be uttered and exchanged. Punk should pride itself on defending those spaces. But speech that operates in conjunction with an ascendant political power and ideological agenda doesn’t need defense or energetic attempts to preserve its right to existence. In October of 2020, that speech (in this case, speeches being written by Miller, texts by folks who have spent time in Tucker Carlson’s writer’s room and songs by white supremacist hardcore bands) has become synonymous with political right itself.  

So now more than ever, it’s important to be active in the public square, to stand up to the fascists and to say it, often and out loud:

Jonathan Shaw

[codicesandflora]

Be Not Afraid

So I was inspired by that post I wrote about Aziraphale keeping his true angelic form hidden from as many people as possible, including Crowley (which can be found here), and wrote a fic for it.

It can also be found on AO3  here for those who would prefer to read it there.

Be Not Afraid

“My dear, I don’t understand what you see in television.”

Crowley chuckled and stretched his legs across the couch. He considered being able to lie here with his head and shoulders in the angel’s lap while watching TV a huge point in favor of doing more of these “Movie/ TV show Nights” at his flat. Then again, that wasn’t something that was going to convince Aziraphale. Not when he also found reasons to do this while Aziraphale read.

“It’s not all like this, angel. And I did offer to watch that performance of Richard II with you instead. You’re the one who picked this show to binge just because you thought the title sounded ‘promising’. Besides, I thought you’d have fun seeing angels on a TV show being the good guys for a change. And on a road trip.”

Aziraphale gave him a pointed, but not too serious glare. “Really, Crowley, I do not know where humans get these ideas about angels or the workings of Heaven. “First of all, this Jonathan would have simply been reassigned elsewhere in Heaven or made to Fall depending on the severity of his mistakes. Secondly, there is no way that Gabriel would have allowed an angel on Earth to intervene so blatantly so often.  And finally, not once did he have to go through the Metatron in order to converse with Her which is probably the most unrealistic part of all.”

Crowley laughed even louder and took one of the angel’s hands into his. “Maybe humans just think that angels are extensions of Her love and like to make them heroes.”

Aziraphale looked down at him, tilting his head. “Do you think so?”

“I do. Can’t blame them either. It’s easy to think that whenever I’m around you.”

Aziraphale beamed and leaned forward, a cue for Crowley to arch upward and meet him for a kiss. The angel cupped the back of his head, and Crowley couldn’t decide if the kiss or the gentle way Aziraphale cradled him was better.

Unfortunately, the kiss was short and when Aziraphale pulled back, there was a pensive look on his face.

“Do you think humans believe that we all look like that?”

“Like Michael Landon? I doubt it. Pretty sure there’s also a show that has a woman playing an angel and she….”

“No. No, not that. That’s not what I mean. I….” Aziraphale took his hand out of Crowley’s, fingers twisting. “Do you think that humans always envision angels as such benevolent looking creatures?”

Crowley frowned and rocked himself forward so he could sit up. Then he swiveled around so he could face Aziraphale.

“Probably. Angels are supposed to be good and all. And you know humans. They are always imagining that other beings look something like them. Don’t know why. Me, I think it’s kind of endearing in a weird sort of way. And this shape is a pretty comfortable one to stay in.”

“I wonder what they would think of us if they saw what we really looked like,” Aziraphale said. There was an edge of old despair in that voice which worried Crowley.

“They’d probably be terrified of us,” Crowley said with a shrug. “They’re humans, Aziraphale. They’re not going to understand the reality of occult beings.”

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose, and Crowley sighed. “Ok, occult and ethereal beings. Point is, they’re not supposed to be used to seeing us in our true forms.”

The demon leaned back against the arm of the couch. “Thought you’d be used to that by now anyway. Isn’t the Bible full of encounters between angels and humans where one of the first things your lot say is ‘be not afraid’? I bet at least a couple of those times referred to something you were involved with.”

“Yes, a couple,” Aziraphale said quietly. “But I didn’t usually handle Divine Proclamations. That was considered to be an archangel’s work. I, I was expected to stay out of the limelight, as it were.”

Crowley’s brow crinkled. “Has anyone seen you as an angel? I mean, aside from Adam and Eve. And Adam the Antichrist.”

“No. No, I…I never saw a need for it. I’m supposed to be guiding humanity away from infernal influences. Revealing what I am would only be a distraction.”

Crowley frowned, nodding. He suddenly realized that both he and Aziraphale had made a point of not bringing up that incident in 1835 when another human found out about Aziraphale. Not that that was surprising. It was a traumatizing series of events for both of them, and it still gave Crowley nightmares. Nightmares that were only eased by holding Aziraphale as close to him as possible for the rest of the night.

The demon shuddered, shaking off bad memories so he could focus on the issue at hand.

“I’m sure it’s a different story in Heaven though, right? It certainly is in Hell. You should see what lurks around some of the darker corners.”

“Yes, I did see some rather ghastly beings,” Aziraphale replied, making sure to not look at him while he said it. “And no, not like you might think. We don’t always go traipsing about in our true forms when we interact with each other. Especially if we plan on returning to Earth in the near future. Only beings like thrones or virtues spend most of their time in their true forms because they never leave the celestial plane anyway.”

Crowley tilted his head back and forth. He had had a question in his comment and it didn’t escape his notice that Aziraphale had ignored it.

“Just curious, but what do you look like? I mean, really look like. I know you saw all the versions of my demonic self in the Garden, but I’ve never seen you look, well, more angel-y.”

Aziraphale squirmed, like he wanted to retreat, but was stymied by the finite area of the couch they were sitting on.

“Oh you know, not so different,” the angel said, keeping his eyes fixed on the now mute TV screen across from them. “We principalities look quite similar to humans, a fact I’m sure you remember from your time in Heaven.”

“Sure, yeah, but….seems weird that I’ve never seen your true form. Six thousand years and you’ve never once….”

“As I said, I never saw a need for it,” Aziraphale said. There was a sound of nerves being stretched taunt in his tone, and Crowley knew he was treading into dangerous territory.

“Well, what about now? A sort of ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.’ No humans will see it while we’re in my flat.”

Aziraphale’s lips creased upward, his teeth showing a little, but it wasn’t really a smile.

“Probably better not. You’re still a demon, and angelic light might be painful to you in some way.”

“Only if you try to Smite me, angel. Besides, if you think about it, there never would have had to been an Armageddon if angels and demons couldn’t stand to be in the presence of each other’s true forms.”

“And, and what about your plants? I wouldn’t want to hurt them. And my wings would probably make a terrible mess if they were fully out.”

“So just keep them out of the physical plane,” Crowley said, shrugging again. “And don’t worry about the plants. I keep a barrier up to prevent supernatural forces from affecting them…unless I want them to be affected.”

“Oh, oh look, there’s something else on the television. Something to do with baking from the look of it. Perhaps they’ll have some….”

“Angel…why don’t you want me to see what you look like?”

It was such a softly spoken question, but it still drowned out every other sound in the room. Aziraphale froze, his gaze becoming distant.

“I don’t look like other angels.”

Crowley’s breath caught. The sheer weight of the pain in those few whispered words made his heart feel as if it was being crushed by cold, cruel fingers. He could see the Adam’s apple in Aziraphale’s throat bob several times while the angel struggled to find his voice again.

“After the humans left the Garden, She…changed me.”

“You…you were a cherub, weren’t you?” Crowley said, unsure of asking the question even as the words left his lips. “They, well Beelzebub, said something about a cherub when they told me to go make trouble.”

Aziraphale slowly nodded. “I guess you could call it a demotion. But…it didn’t…it didn’t entirely take. I’m not sure why. But it left me…not quite being one or the other.”

Crowley’s brow furrowed. He had never heard of an angel hybrid. Then again, this didn’t seem like something Heaven would want to talk about.

His face fell when he looked over and saw the way that Aziraphale’s hands were clenched together on his lap, his chin trembling slightly. It took every bit of willpower he had to not let the fire of his anger at Heaven stir to life again.

“Look, angel, you don’t have to show me if you don’t want to,” he said, forcing his voice to remain calm. “Now or ever. But I’m sure you’re still beautiful.”

One of Aziraphale’s placating smiles flashed onto his face, dissolving in an instant as something much more ancient and bleak took hold. “I’m afraid you’re very wrong about that, my dear.”

Crowley ground his jaw. He was certain he knew why Aziraphale felt so ashamed of his true form, and even if it was dangerous, he also knew that he needed to start counteracting the damage that had been done.

He placed his hand onto Azirphale’s arm. “You’re still an angel, whatever you look like. And you actually love others and care about what She wants for this world unlike far too many of those bastards in Heaven. That’s the sort of thing that makes an angel beautiful, and you know it.”

Crowley squeezed the angel’s arm and reached for one of Aziraphale’s hands. “You’ll always be fucking gorgeous to me, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale turned shiny eyes toward him. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice cracking at the end of it.

Crowley shuffled over to him, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale. The angel was warm, as always. A warmth that soothed away the chill of darkness in his heart. How could someone who radiated light and warmth like that be anything other than beautiful?

And even if it took another six thousand years, Crowley was determined to convince Aziraphale of that too.

[wolfiethewriter]

Heirverse masterlist for my personal use

I’ve just overhauled the masterlist on my ff.net profile to try and make it more “reader friendly” (read: less intimidating to look at. If that is even possible at this point)

But i still wanted to keep the original masterlist somewhere as I need it to keep track of the verse timeline wise. And so I know what to work on/write next.

Not expecting people to look at this, I just want it somewhere for peace of mind; I’m paranoid about losing my offline copies and backups for your backups are always good to have. 

List below the cut. 

Phase 0: Chessboards

sumamary: Follows Aizen and Gin's lives before they meet. Aizen makes a pact with a monster and Gin just tries to survive the Rukongai. Time and Fate bring them both together as teacher and student.

a) Pact - Aizen makes a deal that alters his life forever.

b) Cycle [follow on from Pact] - Aizen reaps the fruits of the pact. (Written by. Timewaster123456789, Edited by SesshomaruFreak.

c) Fast Friends - Gin and Ran meet and decide to be friends. Because no friendship is an accident. Not even theirs. (Written round robin by: TheDrunkenWerewolf, timewaster123456789 and SesshomaruFreak.

d) Fox (working title)

e) Tired Old Game - prequel to Game. Aizen is bored of life and his current partner, Kisuke.

f) Encounter – Aizen meets Gin

g) Looking At You - Aizen and Gin's thoughts on their first meeting. (Written by SesshomaruFreak and Timewaster123456789

h) Chessboards [in work] - intended prequel to Game. Hopefully a shorter story this time.

X

Phase 1: Game

Summary: Covers Aizen and Gin's slowly developing relationship.

1) Game – AiGin. Fun, happy, silly story. For the most part. How they meet, fall in love, try to manipulate each other.

a) Kill for You

b) Things You Don't See - An introspective piece about Aizen reflecting on the ways he loves Gin, which Gin doesn't see.

c) Safe Harbour - Gin moves in with Aizen. (Written by Timewaster123456789 and TheDrunkenWerewolf)

d) Love Like You - Gin listens to Aizen play his piano after moving in together. Post 'Safe Harbor.'

e) (Tsuku arc)

i) Thunderstorm – Gin waits for Aizen to return home and when he does, he brings a surprise.

ii) Title TBA - Gin is jealous of Tsuku

iii) Teeth of the Storm - Aizen Finds Tsuku (tie to LW&T 7) (Written by timewaster123456789)

f) Aurora Borealis – Aizen makes Gin the northern lights just because he said he wanted to see them.

(Say arc)

2) Say I Love You – Say It prequel. Gin tries to get Aizen to say "I love you." with no success.

a) Say it - AiGin role reversal fic. Because I can. Smut. PWP-ish. Connected to Heir. Gin wants Aizen to say he loves Gin.

b) Entwined – The morning after Say It. Smut. Pure smut. Nothing but smut. I have no excuses. "I do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars." - Richard Siken. (Written by Salazar Marvolo)

c) Say it, Again - Follow up to Say it. Gin ditches out on a meeting and Aizen uses this as an excuse to get payback for events in Say it.

3) The Fox's Wedding - mid/late Game era. Spoilers in title. Collaborative with Salazar Marvolo.

a) White Day - Aizen realises there's pros and cons to having gotten married on March 14th. Takes place 1 year after events in Fox's Wedding.

4) Can I Kiss You? - A sun & Monkey prequel one shot.

a) The Sun & The Monkey - Heirverse meets SesshomaruFreak's ByaRen fic, Healing the Moon. Set in later Game era. A collab with Sesh. After watching Renji and Byakuya being more open about their relationship, Aizen, feeling envious, and feeling that level of closeness is missing in his own relationship with Gin, enlists Renji's help to change that.

5) Partners in crime

X

[part b - Grand Fisher]

6) (Fisher Arc)

i) The Stealer of Faces [Face Stealer]

ii) Midnight Thoughts

iii) Grand Fisher – Aizen thought he had no weaknesses... until he encountered a hollow the shinigami later codenamed Grand Fisher.

iv) In the woods (working title)

v) Circles - Aizen plays his piano for Gin. Connects Game and Lie. potential Game scene but this is to be decided.

vi) In the Forest (in my forest)

b) New Song, Same Old Dance-Aizen tries to push Gin away following the battle with Grand Fisher. (Written by timewaster123456789 and SesshomaruFreak)

X

Phase 2: Can We Survive This?

summary: Aizen has an affair with Momo in an attempt to get Gin to leave him. Realising its hs biggest mistake, Aizen tries to make it right, but it takes Gin a long time to forgive him for it.

[Part a - CWST]

c) Negotiations - [located in "Love, War & Tedroppia" chapter 4] Rangiku convinces Gin to let her babysit Cherry-chan in exchange for helping him get time alone with Aizen. [I might make a continuation of this as its own story outside the heirverse but we will see]

7) Copycat - A jealous Gin shows Momo who Sousuke belongs to, and tempts fate by doing so.

8) Can We Survive This? - Aizen has an affair with Hinamori. Gin finds out, and wonders if they can survive it, and if he can forgive it. In the end, they grow back together. [Often abbreviated to cwst in my notes, suggested reading before reading this fic: Lie]

a) Gravity - poetry. Gin's pov. Concurrent with events in the early chs of 'Can We Survive This?'. General heirverse tangle. Subtle mirrors to Lie . Strong cwst references. Love and heartbreak. Gunshots as standard issue.

b) Unlove - poetry. Concurrent with cwst. Gin realises that try as he might, he cannot unlove Sousuke.

c) Mistress - Companion to cwst. Hinamori's side of the affair. Some overlap with events in cwst. AiHina with AiGin. An exploration into the darker side of Hinamori.

d) Liar [storyboarding/planning/seeing if it even works]

e) One Love, One Life - When Gin goes to sleep on the couch...and dreams. Kintsugi - the Japanese art of fixing broken pottery by filling the cracks with gold. (Written by Salazar Marvolo)

f) Fxxk You - An extra cwst scene.

g) Crystalline – Gin destroys his mementos of a lifetime with Aizen. Early/mid cwst scene.

h) Growing Back Together: Rainfall - Late cwst scene. Gin decides it's time he forgave Aizen and the pair of them start growing back together, sharing a moment watching the rain together.

X

[Part b - Lover and Liars]

9) Lie - Sort of prologue to cwst. Some background/context of why Aizen does what he does. Slight Heir/Game spoilers. Ties cwst&Heir together. Aizen's pov.

a) "I Love" - The mirror piece to Lie. Gin's pov. Gin wants Aizen to see and know how he feels. Hellish voice notwithstanding. Concurrent with Lie and later cwst.

b) Monster in the Mirror - Mirror piece to the end of 'I Love' and the fallout that follows. (Written by timewaster123456789)

c) Hear my Prayer - Sousuke feels bad about his recent actions and tries to think of how to make it up to Gin. (Written by HitsugayaKuchiki-HK)

Leverage Point - Tetsuya is captured and reveals some insights into Aizen's situation. (Written by Spunky0ne

10) Would You Rather - post cwst/IL. summary tba

X

[Part c - Out of Time [to be read in the sequence listed below]

11) Coerced - Aizen is coerced/threatened/blackmailed by Hellish Voice to slaughter the Central 46 to keep Gin safe.

a) Chronos – Aizen realises he's running out of time with Gin before he has to fake his death.

b) Real Enough – Aizen fakes his death and Gin does not react well to seeing his 'corpse'.

c) Obey – Voice forces aizen to slaughter c46.

d) Maniac - Aizen slaughters the Central 46.

X

Phase 3: Sanctuary

summary: After faking his death, Aizen has to shut himself away in the Central 46 chambers and struggles to keep his sanity. Thankfully Gin is his refuge from the darkness.

[please read this phase in the chronological order listed below]

12) Solitary confinement. [in work] - Sousuke struggles to cope with the isolation that comes with hiding out in the Central 46 chambers after faking his death. Because solitary confinement does terrible things to the human mind. AiGin.

a) Echo [in work] - What happens to Gin while Aizen is in solitary. Mirror to Solitary Confinement.

13) Cold Feet - As time ticks down until they have to leave for the hollow world, Gin tries to cope with his fear that Aizen might leave him behind. Meanwhile, in hiding, Aizen is terrified Gin will back out. And a voice inside his head - a darker aspect of himself - starts poisoning his thoughts, making him question whether he deserves Gin in his life. Cross references to everything heirverse. Collaborative effort with timewaster123456789.

a) A god am I - Aizen reflects on his goals and Gin the night after Cold Feet. (Written by timewaster123456789)

b) Sanctuary – The aftermath of Cold Feet. Aizen and Gin break an eight decade long cycle of lies and chessplay to explore something real. Collab with Timewaster.

c) Home - Sanc. continuation. Sousuke and Gin realise home is where the heart is.

14) Stand by Me - Aizen and Gin arrive in Hueco Mundo.

a) Choices - Gin reflects on all the choices he has made as he steps onto the white sands of the hollow world, and whether they were worth it. Though the answer is obvious. Somewhat of a mirror piece to Stand by Me. And an overview of the entire series phases 1-3. 

b) Decisions - poetry companion to Choices (Written by SesshomaruFreak).

15) Vulpecula - Aizen and Gin share a quiet moment together in the garden in Las Noches and watch the stars together.

16) Flowering Dogwood - Sousuke attempts to use the language of flowers to express his gratitude that Gin is still with him.

17) Helios - Aizen makes Gin the sun in Huecco Mundo.

18) Long day - Aizen comes home after a long day.

X

Phase 4: Heir/Decimated

Summary: Gin asks Aizen for a child to expand their family and reluctantly Aizen agrees. Unfortunately it has disastrous consequences.

19) Come into the night - [located in Love War and Tea chapter 2] PWP really. But just a nice intimate AiGin moment.

a) Lethal Lunacy - Somewhat of a collaborative with Ganymede Lullaby and myself. Aizen reflects on his stupidity re: cwst and how he feels about Gin.

20) Country Move - Grimmjow's view on his new masters. (Written by timewaster123456789)

21) Silence - Gin could never stand silence it bored him. Aizen and he always were opposites. (Written by timewaster123456789

a) Enemy you Know - Gin takes comfort in Aizen's presence after an altercation with Nnoitra. (Written by timewaster123456789)

22) Heir - [ [original version link]

a) Decimated – Aizen forgets something very important. Mid heir scene.

i) Nine Tenths - Aizen's POV of events in Decimated. . Written by Catsafari.

ii) One Tenth (1/10)- Gin's pov of events following Decimated. companion piece to 9/10.

b) Last of Me - summary tba

c) Fragile – Gin feels lost and broken without Aizen even remembering what they were.

d) Alignment - Gin just wants him to remember, though he knows it's pointless .

e) I Can't Be In There With You - Aizen's pov for chs 73/74 of Heir.

23) Today I'll Be Happy –. End of p4, start of p5

X

Phase 5: After

summary: After the war, Aizen and Gin try to adjust to normal life in the human world.

24) Parenting. - summery tba.

25) Scarred Tissues - Gin has a nightmare about the past. And scars he will carry forever.

X

Phase X:

summary: a collection of works that can fit anywhere in the heirverse series.

Love, War and Tea - A bunch of miscellaneous AiGin oneshots, most of which are/will be heirverse related, set at various times in the storyline.

Cunning Stunning Fox

In Another Life

Colours Fading – Aizen depression fic.

Tea – Heirverse tl;dr. Aizen, Gin, and the many cups of tea they've shared over the decades.

Incandescent - Gin compares his relationship with Aizen to fairy lights (p1 brainstorm result. Not sure if will make final cut)

[nanshe-of-nina]

People of the Caroline phase of the Hundred Years War as dril tweets

Edward III of England: im a marine & accomplished scholar. my sons were alchemized into helicopter fuel to serve their armed brothers. how dare u post penis to me.

Charles V de France: the Digimon Otis peace treaty will hence be frozen in piss and thrown onto the freeway where itll shatter into one million despicable pieces

Richard II of England: i rise; spreading my arms, exuding fluorescent spheres of energy, each representing an Unfollower, Cuasing me a great deal of pain,Screaming

Charles VI de France: how to convince my uncles to combine into one superuncle so that i only have to buy one christmas card? how to do it? how to ddo this? how

Edward the Black Prince: #worstfeeling dying of dehydration caused by diarrhea in a third world nation ravaged by warfare with no doctors #bestfeeling halo 4 odst

Joan of Kent: my big sons have made a mess of the garage again after being riled up by the good word of the Lord.

Lionel of Antwerp, 1st Duke of Clarence: someone please. ive bitten into a nasty apple and I don’t know how to spit things out of my mouth. ivr never spit before and i need help.

Louis Iᵉʳ, duc d’Anjou: me and the boys pooled together our total life savings of $1789.34 in a last ditch effort to rescue the failing quiznos brand from the brink

Marie de Blois: never brought this up due to Trolls, but my son is set to graduate from ITT tech next semester after 8 years of hard work and im very proud.

John of Gaunt, 1st Duke of Lancaster: im not cut out to be a content producer!! fuck thtis!! i want to go back to just looking at everyone else’s content and nodding if its good

Constanza de Castilla: abusing my vile neighbors by putting leaflets around which state that i am now to be referred to as “Daddy’s Golden Goose”.

Jehan, duc de Berry: ACCOUNTANT: I Just don’t know how you can justify donating $700 to “Chips Ahoy” ME: i hope your car flips & becomes your fucking firey grave

Edmund of Langley, 1st Duke of York: damn it to piss. my wife replaced all of my anti-wife reading materials with Pro-Wife bullshit

Isabel de Castilla: I Just Want 2 Have Sex On This Site All The Time With Out Havin To Argue With Peopl And Deal With People Cryin And Shit #WiseWordsToLiveBy

Philippe II, duc de Bourgogne: the first step to becoming a Millionaire is to acquire one hundred dollars

Thomas of Woodstock, 1st Duke of Gloucester: when you do sutuff like... shoot my jaw clean off of my face with a sniper rifle, it mostly reflects poorly on your self

Henry Bolingbroke: DAD: your baby brothers missing, please put down the controller. help us find him ME: Did u read the news. Gaming is a legitinmate hobby now

Louis, duc d’Orléans: my uncle called me a Loser on television way before this guy’;s uncle did it @cnn @reuters @infowars @gameinformer

Edward of Norwich, 2nd Duke of York: my cousin was charged with arson(Bullshit) , and i was thinking we could all help out by drawing up some memes to display in his prison cell.

Pope Innocent VI: i am above choosing sides here. i hope they either become friends & cancel the match, or beat each other completely to death simultaneously ....

Isabelle de Valois, duchesse de Bourbon: my son has been combing his hair without permission. how do i cope with the pain.

John Chandos: i truly hate winning the infamous “Darwin Award” by getting bombarded with artillery fire in the Super K-Mart parking lot

Bertrand du Guesclin: PEOPLE MAG: which pop culture icon are u going to Slaughter next... ME: I have set my sights on “The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B.”

William of Wykeham: im sorry but, when you people reply to my posts with things like “Fuck you” and “Fuck your Account” it makes me look like a real dumb ass.

Robert Knolles: spend a lot of time thinking about how sometimes even war criminals can be heroes sometimes... Dont like it? Click the unfollow buttobn

Jehan III de Grailly: JUDGE: i'll commute 10 yrs from ur sentence if you kiss my gavel ME: no. i will do the time i deserve and thats the truth and also nuff said

Arnaud de Cervole: i spend lots of time thinking about how many of my depraved, miserable followers would murder me if they could get away with it #SocialMedia.

Owen Lawgoch: oh nothin, i was just buying some ear medication for my sick uncle... *LOWERS SHADES TO LOOK YOU DEAD IN THE EYE* who's a Model by the way,

Seguin de Badefol: id like to report a hacker. he offered me 1000000 to show my dick and didnt cough up the dough when i delivered the goods. i got hacked

Louis II, comte de Flandre: I will be your Father. I will take you as my Son and teach you the ways of online. We will hold hands as our follower count reaches infinity.

Gaston III, comte de Foix: my disrespectful teen son somehow got hold of a gluten product and now he wants to become a cat girl

Charles II de Navarre: everyone on this site thinks they’re hard core but i bet if they took poison to weaken their bodies i would win fights against them handily

Jehan II, comte d’Armagnac: as a small business owner i think its bulshit that i have to give 30% of my income to Spain just because obama lost a swordfight to some Fag.

Jehan Froissart: im rwriting a script about a smart and handsome army man cop who murders civilians but wants to stop murdering civilians because hes in love.

Arnaud Amanieu, seigneur d’Albret: im good old southern boy and we dont cotton to bollocks .

John Minsterworth: its me again, from the website. admit that the berenstain bears are for adults or i will strategically headbutt your father to death.

Jehan IV, duc de Bretagne: my trolls & detractors all have gross mental issues. they love drama and are all jealous of my precious army man blood #truth #SorryNotSorry.

Peter de la Mare: come. I SHall lead the charge against corrupt Game developers, (Falls face forward ansd a variety of ass medicines spill out of my clothing).

Enrique de Trastámara: i am only here to field questions regarding my presidential bid. i will not discuss my ongoing project, tentatively titled “Aids Mario.”

Pedro I de Castilla: have you ever wanted to click X on a bastard

Tiphaine Raguenel: THE SUN THE MOON AND THE STARS ARE ALL TOO SMUG FOR MY LIKING

Olivier V de Clisson: unloading an entire belt of ammo at me with a minigun or some such device will now get you “Blocked”

Louis II, duc de Bourbon: may god help you if you trip your feet against my handsome bulk while i am sitting on the floor looking at Depression things on my tablet pc.

Jehan de Vienne: for every year that He is not featured in Forbes Magazine as the worlds richest man... GOD will sink one of our battle ships

Louis de Sancerre: i dress as a medieval knight and pummel my metal body with cymbals to get all 59 of my pit dogs riled up before i fling lawn chairs at them

John Hastings, 2nd Earl of Pembroke: my favorite feature of this site is absolutely no consequences for my opinions sucking ffucking ass and me being 100% wrong about everything

Pierre de Craon: the facts are thuis: i accidentally did benghazi while trying to steal nfl broadcasts and im sorry about it. this is a stressful year for me.

Alice Perrers: (sniffing a crumpled up one dollar bill i found on the floor of a dog kennel) ah.. thats greenbacks baby

Ambrosio Boccanegra: somebody please Bribe me

[iwritegayfiction]

A Bromance With Blurred Lines Is Definitely Still A Bromance So... Dude... Chill

The BirdFlash continues!!! Hi, long time no post!!! I’ve finished so many stories and even more stories that I haven’t posted so... let’s get back into tumbling, yeah? Yeah!

AO3: Here!

Rating: Mature.

Warning: Underage sexual activity (kind of). Bromancing.  

Pairing: Wally/Dick, Roy/Dick, Dick/Zatanna, Wally/Artemis 

Summary: In Which: Dick and Wally's Bromance is acknowledged and then it gets a little out of hand on Dick's Birthday.

A Bromance With Blurred Lines Is Definitely Still A Bromance So Dude… Chill…

  I.

 Somewhere between knowing each other for four years, almost dying and then saving each other for the umpteenth time, and joining Young Justice or Junior Justice or the Titans or whatever, Wally starts calling Robin “babe”.

 Okay, not “somewhere”.

 He’s pretty sure it has to do with a lot of down time, some underage drinking, spin-the-bottle, and playing gay chicken with the other sidekicks. That, and then telling them that he doesn’t care if he has to hug or kiss Rob because Rob is a total babe –for a guy always hiding his face (it was a joke then and still is –kind of). So everyone gets used to their intense bromance (intense on account that they can casually cuddle and hug and kiss and slap each other’s asses and say ‘no homo’ before dissolving in a fit of laughter). And, after that, he sort of never stops calling Robin “babe” and Robin never stops answering to it and knows who Wally’s referring to when he says it.

 And, truthfully, Rob is a “babe” for a lot of platonic, dude-admiring-dude reasons.

 See, Wally has learned a lot about the Boy Wonder since they first met. Like, Rob knows about a dozen languages, he’s computer savvy, he’s a total goof ball (seriously –the guy likes pulling pranks and telling jokes, and laughing in general), and Wally doesn’t care what anyone else says but he swears the guy is a contortionist in addition to being a freaky incredible acrobat. (Has a flexibility that gives way to a lot of sex jokes –no lie).

 But there’s more. A shit ton more.

 Like, Robin always gets them out of a jam when they’re stuck and he’s not a meta but he damn sure beats the hell out of ‘em like he is one and he’s smart and just knows all of these things. And he’ll do next to anything to successfully complete a mission (like that one time when they had to infiltrate a club and Robin had to cross-dress and he was hot, sure, but- dude…).

 But, bonus, the kid can drive –has been since he was 11 and still is now that he’s 14 but what’s driving when he can also fly an aircraft.

 He’s also Richard “Dick” Grayson, which is something Wally found out a few years ago but that kind of makes him even more awesome. And not because he’s a billionaire’s kid and has the world at his disposal with those sapphire eyes and that charming smile but because he’s a billionaire’s kid and Robin and he has the world at his disposal. Honestly… the guy and Big B (whether that’s for Bats or Bruce doesn’t really matter anymore) could do whatever the hell they want but they play up their rich socialite lives and save the world when people think they’re sleeping or partying or doing whatever the hell it is that rich folks do. And Robin doesn’t act spoiled rotten (not really but he has his moments when he wants his way and he doesn’t hear “no” very often, which is being spoiled in it of itself).

 And, alright.

 He’s a really, really, good looking guy.

 Must be and has to be considering he’s a teen heart throb that outranks all of the famous Justin’s combined or any boy group when it comes to the “who’s hot in Hollywood” scene. Dick isn’t even a real celebrity, for crying out loud but he still gets celebrity attention and worship and- And Wally can’t blame them because Dick is hot.

 Or, well, he has his moments. A lot of moments (like when he’s stretching and bending and smirking and being smart or a smart ass or-), well, that’s not important.

 Not at the moment.

 Because-

 Because it definitely sounds like the Wonder Boy is perfect but Wally knows that that’s not true either. And Dick knows his flaws and imperfections and embraces them and tries to rise above them and he’s awesome at that.

 Sure, he has his own dark past and his own demons to contend with but Wally, or anyone else for that matter, would never know it because he’s so… he’s so bright.

 Sunny?

 Illuminating?

 Something along those lines.

 The point is, all of that condensed and packed into one person just makes that person a “babe” on principle.

 Which makes Robin a “babe” in the most platonic, best friend, bro-admiring, way possible.

 -

-

-

 “Babe! C’mere!”

 It takes Dick 30 seconds to get from the rec room to the kitchen. An eternity to a speedster. But he shows up with a raised brow and pursed lips- “You’re… cooking?” He eyes Wally who’s standing by the stove, right between Artemis and M’Gann and, from the smell of it, they’re making a stir-fry curry.

 Wally turns and grins and licks at the spatula in his hand, “Arty and M’Gann are trying to teach me how because I eat a shit ton.”

 Artemis frowns and snatches the spatula. “Kid Gluttony needs to put in his fair share of the work in the kitchen since he eats most of the food.”

 “And here I thought you guys were just turning him into the perfect wife for me.”

 Artemis snorts.

 M’Gann giggles.

 Wally grins and speeds over to Dick’s side, spoon in hand. “I’m already the perfect wife for you, babe! Taste this,” before Dick can protest, Wally has the spoon lodged between parting lips.

 Being force-fed is one of those things that would have gotten Wally punched except- except the food is delicious and it makes Dick hum appreciatively because he swears his taste buds are being slaughtered in the best way possible…

 “Told you, the perfect wife! Or husband if Arty knows what’s good for her.”

 Now Dick’s snorting because Artemis blushes and scowls and throws onion peels at KF before the two get to bickering (which is their rendition of flirting –ask anyone).

 M’Gann walks over and leans against Robin, eyes on the two, “They’re cute.”

 Dick can’t disagree so he doesn’t.

 A few months later, Wally zips into his room to tell him that he finally found the balls to ask Artemis out and she says yes. She actually says yes, to Wally’s great surprise. And they’re a thing –totally official.

 Dick thinks it’s awesome and that Wally’s a lucky guy to be able to snag someone like Artemis because she’s way out of his league. That gets him a punch to the shoulder and then they end up wrestling and then they end up laughing and panting with their backs pressed to the cool floor and their arms touching.

 Wally breathes out and smiles, “You know, you’re still my number one babe, even though I’ve got things going with Arty.”

 “Dude, duh!” Best friends for life isn’t just a saying in the superhero business. Not when life can be cut short any day but that’s just Dick’s opinion. “Same to you, ya know.”

 That makes Wally prop himself up on one arm to stare at Dick, green eyes studying a flushed face. The word “pretty” flashes across his mind but he ignores it in favor of asking, “What’s that mean?”

 “Means you’re still my numero uno no matter who I’m with.” The tone is enough of a “duh” without the need for Dick to tack it on at the end.

 “Wait a sec, you seein’ someone I don’t know about?” Red brows crease as Wally thinks about that.

 And then he thinks about the fact that he’s never actually heard Dick talk about dating or who he likes or if he’s into someone or if any of the rumors in those gossip rags about who he might be seeing are true –none of that. Not to say that they don’t talk about who’s hot because, between Robin and Richard, Dick sees his fair share of gorgeous people. The lucky bastard. Point is, Wally’s never heard him talk about who he’s seeing or if he’s seeing anyone or if he’s interested in anyone. The end.

 “I’m always seeing someone, Walls. No one worth mentioning or introducing to my best bro but, hey. What can I say. Dick Grayson is one hell of a catch and Robin’s hot stuff too!” Dick winks behind his sunglasses but he’s sure Wally can see it or picture it and then he reaches up to pat a freckled cheek, “How do you think I snagged you.”

 And then he’s laughing when Wally scoffs. “I had you from the moment I said, ‘sup, little Bats’ and you know it.”

 “Sure, you keep telling yourself that.” He lets his hand fall and cocks an eyebrow when green eyes keep studying his face, “…What?”

 “You seein’ anyone now?”

 “Why, you jealous?” Dick’s tone is as playful as the smirk on his face.

 “Nah, curious. Maybe we can go on a double date or something?”

 “As Dick and Wally or as Robin and KF?” Because there’s a difference.

 “Depends… who are you seeing?”

 Robin (yes, Robin because of that expression and that long drawn out stare that’s so very Batman, it reminds Wally that he’s talking to Robin) sits up and scoots back a bit. Gets some space between them. “I have a few clusive things going on at the moment but, if anything gets exclusive I’ll let you know.”

 “Dude… sometimes I hate you and sometimes I want your life.”

 Dick laughs and stands and pulls Wally up off of the floor. “If it makes you feel better, I never want your life and I hate you more than I don’t.”

 Wally mock gasps, hands clutched at his chest, “Ouch… I swear I felt my heart break.”

 “You’ll get over it.” Dick cackles but it cuts off and turns into a surprised yelp when Wally tackles him back to the ground, mercilessly tickling his sides.

 Yeah… Dick is a total babe and, obviously, Wally isn’t the only one who thinks so if the guy’s got a few “clusive” things happening at the moment.

     II.

 It’s M’Gann who prompts their relationship to change but she can’t be blamed for what happens.

 She finds out that Dick spent his 15th birthday fighting Clayface and patrolling with Batman and not doing anything birthday like in the least. Not that he can tell her that Bruce did celebrate with him. Got him a new motorcycle and a retractable electric-shock tonfa and gave it to him after they went out for the best Seafood New York City had to offer –all birthday things by his account, at least for Dick Grayson. But, see, he can’t tell her that so she thinks he needs to be celebrated. And since she’s been on this “celebration” kick where everything- holidays, birthdays, religious affairs- deserve a celebration of some sort, that’s what they decide to do.

 As normal teens because she wants the whole experience for herself and him. (Because they all sort of think that Batman keeps him on a tight leash and “Robin” doesn’t have a relatively normal adolescence because he’s a Bat –being a kick ass protégé aside).

 With the way she smiles and lights up at the prospect of celebrating, Dick can’t refuse.

 So, when she says that they should go to a party that her friends from school are throwing on a Friday night plus the team has no missions going on and they’re all present for the first time in forever (even Speedy- er- Red Arrow), Dick definitely caves.

 Why not?

 Little do they know, he likes a good party or a club or a bar because being Richard Grayson and hanging out with society’s elite sometimes has its perks. Sometimes. Like buying out a VIP section and dancing and drinking and pretending for the briefest of moments that the world didn’t almost end hours or days ago… sometimes that’s nice. Sometimes.

 Batman told him to have fun and enjoy his weekend. Be a teen for a change. And Dick always takes advantage of those rare opportunities because, sometimes, he needs a breather.

 But- The party. Or, the house party packed with hormones and adrenaline after a big football game. Typical high school party by any standards (standards being beer, music, and horny teens). Dick feels like he’s in one of his elements because he likes to dance. Likes to dance and drink and he’s oh-so good at drawing people in and being the life of a party when he wants to be –comes from years of practice and being Bruce Wayne’s son. (When he doesn’t want to be the center of attention, he’s even better at being an observant shadow).

 But- um- The party.

 The team as a collective has never seen this particular side to him. Not really. His alter element (ha!). But they like “off-duty” Dick and they all embrace him differently.

 Megan gets a kick out of his outfit (all black, all tight fitting, and it accentuates his best features –it’s like a Bat rule to wear black, clingy clothes, and look good for all occasions). She says he’s, “Friggin’ hot” and gladly introduces him to all of her friends on the cheer squad. They can’t believe he’s only 15 but they can’t get enough of him. They eat up his charm and try to keep him –makes the football players jealous (for a number of reasons if he has to guess).

 But he has Conner so he doesn’t worry about it much. Conner intimidates the bullheaded football players that eye Dick. He doesn’t give a damn what their thoughts are but he’s not letting anything happen under his watch –not with the threat of Batman looming over his head.

 Artemis and Zatanna drag Dick into the dead center of the thriving mass of bodies in what used to be the living room but is now a dance floor. Neither of them are surprised that Dick can dance and he’s gorgeous and moves like the music is made specifically for him to move to it. They love it! They sandwich him and kiss him and run their hands everywhere and they all laugh and try to keep up or take the lead or those two just let him lead. They probably dance for an hour straight –it’s that fun- but it’s fine because he has a good time and he gets birthday kisses out of it from two of the most beautiful girls he knows. Well- more of a mind numbing make out with Zatanna as she snags the back of his neck and teases her tongue along the seam of his lips before slipping it in and getting a taste. She tastes like sin and sugar.

 Dick considers himself winning.

 Kaldur’s the one that offers him a break from the dance floor. Shares Dick’s first drink of the night with him because it’s a tradition –both one that they’ve formed and an Atlantean birthday custom. So they drink and talk about the difference between surface life and non-surface life and parties top-side versus parties seaside. But Dick can’t help seeing everything or multitasking, thus, when the girl by the door who’s been watching Kaldur all night takes a bold step towards them, he pushes his friend off on her because Atlanteans deserve a break too.

 Roy gives him his second kiss of the night. That one kiss leads to being pinned against a door upstairs and Dick hitching himself up and locking his legs around strong hips while tangling his fingers in soft red hair. To imprinting beer and cigarette toxins and fast-food on shocked tastes buds via mouth-to-mouth. To swollen lips and teeth tugging at the sensitive flesh just beneath the ear or right along the jaw –leaving marks in desperation as hands grip and pull. It makes Dick cuss and pant and gasp sweetly into Roy’s mouth when the hothead sucks on his bottom lip and traces gums with the tip of his tongue.

 Between breaths, Roy leans back and leers and smirks all cocky- “This is such a bad idea.” Because it is. Every time they end up like that, it’s one of the best “bad ideas”. Ever.

 Dick pushes his glasses up, up, up, until they’re sitting atop his head and then he’s all teeth and constricted pupils. A predator. “I’ve been an accomplice to worse ideas.”

 True. Very true.

 It kills Roy’s feeble attempt at an argument to dissuade them from going further.

 So they make out some more and when the door opens and they topple backwards and end up in a heap laughing, it stops there but it isn’t the first time they’ve made out and they never make any promises about a last.

 But, Dicks last dance and last kiss for the night are given to the one person he doesn’t expect them to end with, yet, at the same time, he kind of does.

 Wally.

 He’s relatively drunk by the time they end up pressed together in the middle of the dance floor. Drunk, but not unaware. So when Wally replaces the girl behind him, Dick knows. Recognizes the hands that clumsily guide and sway his hips and pulls him unbearably close. Is familiar with the chin that gets tucked against his shoulder and the soft lips that brush along his neck when Wally whispers, “Happy birthday, Little Bats”. But then, those lips keep moving and pressing and teeth get into the mix and a lazy trail burns from just behind the ear to shoulder. Makes Dick’s mind stutter and blank out as he tilts his head and still moves to the music.

 At some point, they escape the throng on the makeshift dance floor but Dick can’t say when or how that happens.

 So he’s not sure how they end up on the trampoline in the backyard. How Wally ends up slotted between his welcoming thighs as that warm mouth eagerly attaches to the pale flesh of neck and collar and jaw. Or how Wally devours every little moan and giddy sigh while staring at Dick like he’s just- he’s everything. And he definitely can’t comprehend why Wally is literally vibrating but it feels so incredible and he’s so hard it aches to shift in his god forbidden skinny jeans. But shifting is the least of his- their problems because they are most certainly grinding against each other and Dick is whining and saying “Walls… man… c’mon…” And then his bottom lip is being savored and his mouth is being teased- “C’mon…” He whines again.

 To which, Wally snorts and chases after swollen lips before muttering, “I’ll c’mon alright.”

 A haughty retort sits at the tip of Dick’s tongue but it dies there all the same because Wally has his hips and he’s just grinding down and rutting and vibrating and- and- Dick can’t think straight. Can’t breathe right. Can’t see clearly. His nerves are on fire and short-circuiting and his heart is trying to thump right out of his chest- “Ah- shit-” He clutches at strong shoulders.

 “It’s okay, babe. It’s okay,” Wally murmurs sweetly while grunting and mouthing Dick’s earlobe-

 And Dick cums right in his pants. Swears he sees stars as he rides out his orgasm and Wally’s smug smile is the last thing he clearly remembers about the night.

 -

-

-

 “So… we gonna talk about this or…”

 “Or.” Dick bites out because he has a headache that’s making one side of his head throb irritatingly with every sound and every attempt at speech and his eyes feel like they’re being stabbed –repetitively- and his mouth is all dry and cottony.

 Yeah.

 Definitely not the time to talk. But he doubts he’ll get away so easily.

 Doesn’t hurt to try.

 Green eyes stare at Dick with consideration and then Wally thinks, consideration be damned and he sits on the counter where Dick is slumped. “Dude… we- um… we should talk.” Because they need to and because he needs help because he technically cheated on Artemis with his best bro and- and it’s weird as all hell and-

 Ice blue eyes cast a sidelong glance in Wally’s direction and Dick prays that they convey his thoughts on the matter but Kidiot is being so willful far too early in the morning- “Talk.”

 Something about that makes Wally smile but then it’s replaced by this odd half-smile and half-grimace- “So… we hooked up last night.”

 Dick sits up and stares, makes Wally flush a gorgeous shade of crimson. “Sure. It happened. We were inebriated. We always goof around and some lines got blurred because of the previous. We’re horny, hormonal, teenage boys and shit like this happens. This doesn’t make you gay –queer maybe but not gay. If you’re gay then so is Arty because she hooked up with Zatanna right after making out with M’Gann. So, really, we’re all just teenagers here and all of this experimentation was bound to happen. But you and I are still best bros. I’m just crazy hot and irresistible so I don’t blame you for giving in to temptation. And none of this is weird.” He pauses for effect. Even manages a smirk. “Need anything else or can this talk be considered complete so that I can go back to bed.” All he wanted from the kitchen was water but he ends up with more of a headache instead.

 Very unproductive –emphasis on the un.

 Wally sits there, jaw slack and mind racing because- because Dick is a total dick but he just said everything that really needed saying so… “Man, I think I love you!” And he forgets about the whole hangover thing when he slaps Dick’s back.

 Dick glares and rubs his temples and can still manage a joke despite wanting to get to bed and feeling shitty. “One night and you’re already in love. Damn, I’m good.”

 “I sort of remember doing all of the work last night.” It’s funny how he can joke about it now that Dick’s cleared the air but that’s how best friends operate so Wally considers it all good.

 “But it was because I made you want to do all of the work. I’m clearly amazing. Now lemme go back to bed.” Dick doesn’t wait for Wally to give him the go ahead before he stands and starts moving towards his room.

 On his way, when he passes by M’Gann’s room, he makes a mental note to thank her for one of the best birthdays. Ever.

[bigheadzilla-blog]

Journey Away from Home

“Yousef! Yousef! Yousef, get up right now, you’re going to be late for your first day of school,” my mom screamed into my ear while trying to wake me up.

           “Oh, shit,” I thought to myself as I begrudgingly got out of bed. After two and a half months of summer vacation and two long weeks of searching for a new school, it was finally time for my first day of school in America. I was never happy about moving here, I always wanted to stay in Canada, with all of my friends that I had known for pretty much my entire life. The reason we did move here of all places was because my mother was American. I tried to stay keep a positive attitude about moving here, but after reading that Louisiana was among one of the most racist states in America, and being of partial Pakistani heritage, I guess knew it was only a matter of time before things started to go south for me.

           I quickly got ready and headed downstairs for breakfast. “This uniform feels like paper. Why do I have to go to a private school anyways?” I said as I stuffed my mouth with a spoonful of cereal.

           “Look Yousef, your father and I want you to live an easy and comfortable life,” my mom replied.

“Comfortable? With this uniform?” I said with an annoyed look on my face.

“Just listen to your mother,” said my uncle Frank said as he walked into the kitchen, “trust me, everyone will think you’re cool if you listen to your mother.” I was perplexed by his answer and didn’t know what to say. I always liked my uncle Frank, he was a short, stubby, balding man who wore gigantic glasses. I think he just tried a bit too hard to be funny and cool. Nevertheless, he is really nice and sweet.

After finishing my breakfast, I got into the backseat of the car and headed off to my new school. “Now Yousef, make sure to introduce yourself to everyone and try to make a lot of friends,” my mom said looking back at me.

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” I answered in an uninterested tone.

           “C’mon Yousef, try to lighten up a bit,” my mom said trying to brighten my mood, “I’m sure your first day of school will go well”.

           “How can you be so positive about this mom? You can’t seriously be happy about moving here”.

           “No one is happy about moving here Yousef, your father is still back in Canada out on the sea working hard just for you. Can’t you just try to be positive, if not for yourself, at least for him”.

           “Okay mom, but I’m still not happy about this.”

           “That’s fine, I don’t expect you to be happy, but at least try to look at the bright side of things. I know you can do it, you’re a good boy Yousef”.

           I finally arrived at school, kissed my mom goodbye, and headed for the main gate of the school. It was a small private school with a little under 200 students, so everyone in the school already knew each other. The school principal came to meet me at the administration and guided me to my class. As he took me to my class, he told me that the school was happy to have me and that I was a great addition to this class. I smiled at him not to be rude, but deep down, I knew that I was not going to be happy here.

I walked into the classroom and the whole classroom went silent. The principal introduced me to everyone and told them that I was a new student. Everyone looked confused. You see, the school started a month and a half before I joined in late. All of the students stared at me, looking at me as if I were an animal in a zoo exhibition. After the principal finished introducing me, I sat down in the closest seat to me. A few of the students came to me and asked me my name and I told them. They didn’t seem too bad and I kind of liked a few of them. That was until the homeroom teacher entered. “All right class settled down everyone, get in your seats so I can take attend- Wait, who let this chocolate bar inside the class?” said Mr. Johnson pointing  referring to my darker skin. The whole class roared with laughter. I felt embarrassed but kept my composure.

“No, no, I know who you are, c’mon get up in front of the class and introduce yourself new kid.” I got up in front of the class, and that was when I made the biggest mistake of my life.

“My name is Yousef Mahmoud, I’m a fifteen years old,” I said at the front of the class

“And where you from Yousef,” said Mr. Johnson asked me.

“I came here from Canada, but I am a Muslim that originated from Pakistan.” I replied. As soon as I uttered those words, I could see the laughter that filled the student’s faces previously had quickly vanished.

“Umm… Okay, th-thank you, you can go back to your seat now,” Mr. Johnson said with a stutter. I saw the disgust in the eyes of the other students and realized what I had said and where I had said it. I just told a bunch of naïve fifteen-year olds that I was not only Muslim, but that I was also from Pakistan. It would have been better if I had put a target right on my forehead.

I could hear the whispers of the other students. I heard the gossip going about. The rumors that spread across the entire school. I had a lot of time to think about the situation I was in throughout the school day. I realized that my parents were actually working really hard for me and I didn’t want them to worry. So I decided not to tell my parents about what had happened.

That day when I got home, I told my mom that I had a great day and that I loved the school. I cried myself to sleep that night, not the first time, and certainly not the last.

For the next couple of days, no one talked to me. I was completely alone at lunch. I actually preferred class time because it was the only place I could sit and be silent without looking like a loser. Every day I would come home with a big smile on my face but it was eating away at me on the inside. I couldn’t handle putting on this mask. For many nights before going to bed, I would Skype my best friend from back in Canada, Osaed, telling him about how much I hated it here. Multiple times I would come crying to him, but that was only the beginning.

About two weeks in, the other students realized how vulnerable I was. They started to take advantage of me. They started bullying me. Every morning when I came into homeroom, I dreaded seeing one person’s face, a kid named Richard. Richard was a tall, overweight, freaking horrible human being. His only purpose was to make my life miserable. He was the worst part of every single day of my life. I can’t even begin to explain how horrifying the things he did to me were.

           There were a lot of things he and his friends did to me. They did the usual bullying things, like beating me up, making fun of me, spreading rumors, but there was one thing that stood above the rest. I was fasting during the month of Ramadan and Richard knew of this, he took advantage of how vulnerable I would be during that time. He forced food down my throat every single day. He disrespected my beliefs and my religion. I always tried my hardest to resist, but to no avail. That really hurt me mentally and emotionally. I’m lost for words on what an abomination that kid was. I honestly couldn’t understand how anyone could be such a horrible human being. The worst part is, pretty much everyone in my class knew about what was happening to me. No one did anything about it. No one talked to me. No one helped me at all. No one even tried.

           I tried talking to my homeroom teacher, Mr. Johnson, about how I was being treated repeatedly, but he said there was nothing he could do. He kept on telling me that none of the teachers really had any control over the student’s actions. I couldn’t understand the kind of school this was. How could a school disregard what was happening to their students.

           I was completely lost. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t think clearly. No human being should ever have to go through what I had been through. I had to hide my bruises from my mother. I went straight to my room after coming home from school telling my mother that ii had a lot of school work to do. I kept my interaction with people as minimum as possible. I didn’t want things to get any worse than were. This is usually the part in the story where I tell you how I overcame my obstacle and how I defeated my problems, but it isn’t. It only got worse and worse.

Three months had passed by and I was in the worst state of mind I had ever been in. There was pretty much no one by my side. The only people I had supporting me who knew about this were a few close friends from back home, but it’s not like they could really even do anything about it. I kept my family oblivious throughout everything. My uncle Frank actually had not been feeling so well for the past couple of months and my mother was worried sick about him. With all the work they do for me, I wouldn’t want them to have to start worrying about me as well. I just thought that it would be too much stress for them to handle if I told them because it was definitely too much for me to handle.

           In early December, my uncle Frank passed away due to coronary artery disease. It wasn’t easy for me or my mom. He was the only sibling my mother had and they had a really strong bond. My dad was there at the funeral. I met with him for the first time in months. We sat down on a bench and I asked him, “How long are you here for dad?”

           “Just for another two days Yousef,” he replied.

           “Have you found any way for us to be able to move back to Canada?” I asked him with a glimmer of hope in my eye.

           “You know I’m trying, I’m really trying,” he answered back, “but aren’t you happy here, you told your mother that you’ve been having fun at school”.

           The guilt of lying to my parents struck at my heart. “Ye-, yea but, it doesn’t compare to back home”.

           “I know son, I know,” he said while kissing my forehead.

I missed a week and a half of school because of my uncle’s death and Richard started spreading rumors. He had told everyone that I had been clinically diagnosed with depression and had to skip school because I was cutting myself. None of this was true (although I had been tempted a few times) but because everyone knew how I was treated, they probably thought that it wasn’t unlikely that it could be true.

           Later that week, the school’s councilor had called for a meeting with me and my mother. I already knew he was going to tell my mother about the rumors that had been spread about me. She still thinks that I’m happy at this school and when she finds out that I’m not, added with the death of my uncle, I can’t even begin to imagine what’s going to happen.

           “Mrs. Mahmoud,” said the councilor, “there have been widespread rumors about your son being clinically depressed, I just wanted to confirm with you to see if this is true.”

           “I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” my mother replied.

           “Well, with the way Yousef is treated here, I’m sure you know something of it,” the councilor replied with a shocked look on his face.

           “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Yousef says he loves it here. He says that he has made lots of friends and that the teachers are good. I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

With those words, the councilor looked at me and said, “I’m afraid that all of those things are untrue. Unfortunately, Yousef isn’t very popular to say the least, he is constantly getting bullied in school. I cannot believe that he hasn’t told you” I shrank into my chair with fear of how my mother was going to react.

“If you knew this was happening, why didn’t you do anything about it?” my mother said to the councilor with a menacing look.

“Mom, it’s fine, you don’t hav-“.

“You keep your mouth shut young man. I’ll get to you too. I can’t believe you lied to me,” my mother cut me off.

“Well you see Mrs. Mahmoud, the school doesn’t take responsibility for the actions of the other students,” replied the councilor with a frantic voice.

“What kind of bullshit school policy is that? You knew my son was getting bullied and you didn’t even think to tell his own mother!”

“We assumed that he had already told you”.

“If he had already told me, we would have had this conversation a lot sooner”. My mother’s voice kept getting louder and louder. I think she was letting out all of her emotions regarding the death of my uncle onto the councilor.

She went on for another ten minutes while I was thinking about what she was going to say to me about everything. She was completely silent on the car ride home. Those ten minutes it took us to get home were the most frightening moments of my life. As soon as we walked into the house, my mother fell on her knees and started sobbing.

“What did I do to deserve this?” my mother asked me, “What did I do Yousef? Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve talked to the principal, I could’ve talked to the bully’s parents, I could’ve even had your school changed. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry about me,” I said as tears rolled down my cheeks, “You and dad already work so hard for me and I just didn’t want to put any more stress on the two of you. I’m sorry for not telling you, I just couldn’t find the willpower to. I was scared about how you would react”.

I couldn’t imagine what was going through my mom’s head. She was probably worried sick about me. I couldn’t blame her. She just found out that her son had been getting bullied in school for three months right after her brother passed away. I wouldn’t blame her if she was losing sleep over it.

The next day, the councilor called me and my mother back to his office to talk about what had happened the day before.

“Mrs. Mahmoud, I have called you back today to talk about possible solutions for the problems your son is facing,” the councilor told my mother.

“Now you come to talk about solutions?” my mother replied, “Not three months earlier when you knew the problem arose”.

“Simply talking to the bullies will not work,” the councilor said ignoring my mother’s comment, “they have sort of gotten used to bullying Yousef dare I say and if we suspend them or put them in detention, they will just start to bully him more”.

“So what do you propose we do?” my mother asked.

“I would say the only real option you have at this point is to have his school changed”.

“Have his school changed? Where on Earth will I find a school willing to accept him three months after the school year has started?”

“Mom, we could move back to Canada, you know I won’t get bullied there,” I said to my mother with a glimmer of hope of her saying yes.

“We went over this Yousef, your dad’s company isn’t paying for the house rent or the school fees anymore. It would just be too expensive to live there”. I knew the reason we couldn’t go back, but I just thought that maybe with all of this going on, my mom would start thinking about possibilities on how we could move back.

“Well Mrs. Mahmoud, other than going to a different school here or moving back to Canada, I cannot think of any other possibilities to save your son from being bullied”.

“Mom, please talk it over with dad, there might be a way for us to move back to Canada,” I said to my mom as a last ditch effort because it didn’t seem like we really had any other options.

“Fine, fine, I will try but, you know we tried to stay, we really did but we couldn’t find a way. Your dad couldn’t find a different job with enough pay to support you going to school,” my mom said back to me.

“It doesn’t matter if you change the school, I wouldn’t mind going to a different school, just anywhere that isn’t here”.

“Alright sweetie, I’ll try my best, but I have already told you many times, it is highly unlikely”.

We couldn’t think of any other solution. It was either switch schools or stay in this shithole. Thinking about possibly going to Canada really put hope in my heart and reminded me of how life was back then. It was a simpler time when everything was easier.

School was good, I was more active. My new school didn’t really put emphasis on sports and I loved playing sports. I really loved playing basketball but after moving here, I completely stopped and my love for the sport vanished. I really wanted to go back and I knew my school would accept me back because I was a model student. I was a straight A student who was captain of the volleyball and basketball team, leading them to the inter-high championship multiple times.

There was just a week left before winter break began and I was finally going to hear some good news for the first time in months. My mom said that for winter break, we were going back to Canada. I was ecstatic, I only had to deal with one more week of school and then I would be back with my friends for two weeks. The last week of school was probably the easiest for me because Richard and some of his friends were out of town so I didn’t really get bullied at all.

We arrived at the airport and my dad was there waiting for us. I hadn’t seen him in months due to his job and gave him a big hug. My mom had told him the situation I was in and said he was doing whatever he can to get us to move back to Canada. I spent most of the time there with my friends, reminiscing about past experiences. I loved every minute I spent there, but was scared of having to go back. I never wanted it to end, but I knew it had to. Or so I thought.

My dad just got a call from his company, their chief engineer just got fired for sleeping with the CEO’s wife so they need him back to become interim chief and to possibly even become the chief engineer again. I couldn’t believe it, there had just been so many downs in my life for months and I finally get some good news. I was so unbelievably happy there are no words to describe it. I was finally going to get my life back. I was finally going to be happy again.

I packed my stuff as fast as I could when we got back to Louisiana. The moving process felt like it flew by in an instant. As winter break ended, we were completely settled back in Canada. I was so incredibly happy that I would be with my friends again. I was up all night on the first day of the second semester. I got ready as fast as I could, went to eat breakfast and was headed off to school. I arrived at school, kissed my mom goodbye and everything was finally back to normal.