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#chuck is so valid for this
world-of-wales · 1 year
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No Fergie at the Coronation too apparently 😭😭😭😭
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sga-owns-my-soul · 6 months
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the atlanteans all call the city "Lantis" and refer to her like she's a person and one of the newbies is finally like "so who is this Lantis? will I meet her? it seems like everyone here loves working with someone called Lantis but I've never met her" and Chuck is like "oh that's the city's nickname. yeah she's sentient and has favourites but if you treat her well and talk to her from time to time you'll be fine"
🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 john 100% starts this and it catches on very quickly. the first time john says it, everyone in the city feels this warm feeling and it's the city being excited/pleased with her new nickname. chuck and elizabeth end up using it the most, but john and rodney are a close second. john, lorne, and rodney also call her sweetheart and darling when they need help or are thanking her
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elliebartlets · 5 months
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I love mike ehrmantraut
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nostalgicfun · 1 year
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Taking my dozens of started "collections" apart as I list pieces on eBay really does make it apparent that maybe it was just one big collection of "I saw this and liked it" rather than justifying it with dozens of little micro collections
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quietwingsinthesky · 1 year
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thinking about a version of spn where billie taking on the role of Death functioned on elder scrolls rules, where through performing the role, she Became Death to the point where her selfhood was subsumed into the concept. Instead of idk she was the last reaper that died so she gets the job.
#yes I played oblivion recently yes I am always thinking about sheogorath#anyway spn is like. about how you think you have autonomy. you think you are making choices#but actually you don’t and you are in over your head#and this could have applied to them too#because Someone has to be death. Someone has to take on that role#so say she did. say she did and she can even still have a grudge against the Winchesters or whatever (valid of them tbh)#but like. we could have watched them. in performing that role. in taking on that duty. Voluntarily!! they stop being themselves#like. she is still billie but also. there is something Fundamentally Changed in a way that’s hard to put a finger on.#a way in which she has become Death. no longer really an agent of her own will but a primordial force.#guess this is getting into my own vague hc territory but like. death interfering with shit is! a big deal!#was a big deal at least.#Lucifer had to slaughter a town to set It free and shackle It. dean had to wear Its ring to make a deal with It#death showing up. personally. to collect Sam! big big deal!!#because a force like that taking an interest is a Bad Thing. that is why Chuck is Bad. he’s too invested! too involved!#but anyway this was about Billie.#tl;dr: the goal to become Death should have been something they pursued. not something given to whichever reaper happened to die first#and in the pursuing. they lose enough of themselves to no longer know why they originally wanted the title. but it’s hers now. she is Death#I should stop trying to push oblivion lore into spn asdggjklhl I JUST THINK MANTLING. IS A COOL CONCEPT#AND I THINK. IT HAS POTENTIAL IN OTHER UNIVERSE BESIDES THE ELDER SCROLLS LORE#anyway this has been thoughts for the day#supernatural#spn#Billie spn#death spn
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vv3spa · 2 years
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someone (on the spectrum) should make a list of all the evidence that buzz is autistic because i think it'd be neat
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myrtaceaae · 2 years
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The contrast between ticket inspectors in Perth vs. Melbourne is stark.
A backpacker didn't have enough money on her card for the fare. In Melbourne she would've got a lecture and a $200 fine and she'd be taken off the bus. Here the ticket inspector just told her to top up before her next bus and just let her go to her destination! Fucking wild!
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koushirouizumi · 1 month
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M E: If I ever get an Ukkomon plush someday. Its getting chucked at the wall too. I WILL NOT TAKE NO for an Answer (DigiBeanies+Plush Get Chucked)
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drchucktingle · 4 months
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THE TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION TELLS CHUCK TINGLE TO STAY HOME BUT WE PROVE LOVE ANYWAY
just when you buckaroos thought 2024 would be a break from book drama, here comes chuck tingle in the mix. recently i was asked to be a featured speaker at the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION annual conference. a few days ago they rescinded my invitation. here is what happened.
(EDITED TO ADD THIS LINK. if you have a hard time reading this on way of tumblr you can also read for free on chucks patreon)
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i would like to start off by saying it is not my intent to start a fight, and all those reading this should know that the actions of a few misguided folks do not speak for the whole TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION. i am sure there are many involved who will be very upset to learn what others at TLA have done in their name. there are many individuals here, so please do not paint them all as villains in your mind. besides, chuck loves the dang library everyone knows that.
the point of writing this is not to vilify. i am writing this is because MOMENTS OF DARKNESS are the best places to SHINE A LIGHT AND PROVE LOVE IS REAL. this is a perfect time for learning and growing and for us talk on some very important things that queer buckaroos and neurodivergent buckaroos face every day. this is an unfortunate moment that WE can turn around and use to prove love is real.
i am also writing this to understand some of my own personal feelings on the matter. for something that seems very simple on the surface, the trot is complex, and i am still working out my emotions on the whole dang thing. i am learning in this way.
PART ONE: BAG OF LOVE
a few months ago chuck was asked to be a featured speaker at the 2024 TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION ANNUAL CONFERENCE. i have been asked to do things like the before and it is ALWAYS a fun time to meet bookseller and librarian buds. trotting around face to face and talking about my story of conquering chronic pain and overcoming my mental hurdles is VERY IMPORTANT to me. i say YES to these things whenever i can. (here i am with authors at CALIFORNIA INDEPENDENT BOOKSELLERS ALLIANCE conference. they are a WONDERFUL group and they proved love with their OWN invitation to chuck. this was such a moving event with so many amazing authors and stories. got very teared up during this photo)
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ANYWAY BUCKAROOS i get the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION invite and say 'YES BUD LETS TROT'. we are then confirmed.
months pass. a few weeks ago i get a call from my manager and agent and publisher saying ‘the TLA have rescinded their invitation.’
turns out some things had been going on behind the scenes
at some point the TLA asked chucks INCREDIBLE HEROIC BAD ASS PUBLISHER if chuck would be okay with not wearing the mask, to which tor/nightfire/macmillan said ‘what the heck are you talking about of course chuck is going to wear his mask. this is how chuck presents himself’ (NOT EXACT QUOTE)
as you all know, my pink bag way is a VERY IMPORTANT SPACE. as an autistic buckaroo it is a boundary that allows me to express myself freely and relieve my chronic pain from neurotypically masking all day. i have talked about this for years, and it is why i consider my private identity a SACRED THING. it is literally a health issue.
fortunately THE PINK BAG is never really a problem when making appearances. i have spent years going on television shows, doing interviews, speaking at other conferences and conventions, hosting book events on tour, and even MEETING WITH LAWYERS in my pink face covering. it is always respected and that is very validating to my way.
when arriving anywhere i always take precautions. i always warn buckaroos ahead of time that there is a masked man coming. i always have someone go in ahead of me JUST IN CASE. again, there has never been an issue. at a big conference where i am a special guest there is ESPECIALLY not an issue because my face and bio are printed IN THE DANG PROGRAM
SOME FUN TIMES AT BIG EVENTS BELOW:
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CHUCK ON TV SHOW NAME OF 'AT MIDNIGHT' BACK BEFORE I WROTE LOVE IS REAL ON MY HEAD:
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well, there has never been an issue.... UNTIL NOW.
PART TWO: RESCINDED
a few days ago TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION suddenly messaged my publishers and said that chuck tingle is no longer invited. my invitation was rescinded. the reason given was that people could possibly be uncomfortable with my mask
right out of the gate i would like to say this: it is absolutely the right of the texas library association to disinvite someone from their conference. it is their event, after all, and they can ban anyone they would like, for any reason.
of course, that doesnt mean other folks HEARING THIS NEWS wont have their own opinions the TLA choices. if the TLA disinvites someone, their reasoning for doing this can be discussed and analyzed. whether or not they follow their own guidelines can be questioned, and certainly their kindness and tact can be considered
there are a few BIG POINTS to make regarding this choice from the TLA
first and foremost, i just gotta say buckaroos, it is incredibly rude to invite someone to be a guest speaker at your event, have them confirm and mark off their calendar and turn down other offers, then rescind their invitation. this is maybe the simplest of the points, but it is an important one.
second, (DEEP BREATH HERE WE GO BUCKAROOS) i personally do not think of my autism as a disability very often, but i also KNOW that despite these feelings it ABSOLUTELY IS. autism is important to be listed as a recognized disability because of the help some autistic buckaroos need regarding government programs and things like that. ALSO just because my neurodivergence has helped me in some ways (hyperfocus and a unique artistic sensibility for example). i personally need to step back and remember my battle with stress and chronic pain from having to neurotypically mask all the time. for as much as i love being autistic it has made some things very difficult.
in other words, i am perfectly capable of speaking and interacting with folks without this pink bag on my head BUT WHEN I AM IN THE CHUCK TINGLE SPACE I REQUIRE IT. i can ONLY use this space while covering my face. is not a want. it is a need. holding this boundary is more important than i can ever say. i will not, and can not, let these spaces cross.
TLA not letting an autistic author wear the face cover theyve set up to express their neurodivergence in a safe, healthy way is--for lack of a better term--NOT A GOOD LOOK.
i cannot fathom them disinviting another author for using a disability aid. i cannot fathom them saying that a buckaroo who hears better with a hearing device cannot use it during their panel because it would make others 'uncomfortable'.
but here we are.
PART THREE: WHAT DOES A BUCKAROO GOTTA DO TO GET BANNED AROUND HERE?
this is the TLAs official stance on disability issues according to their website:
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when poking around on the TLA website i noticed a few other things. i noticed a previous guest speaker wearing a niqab, and i was left wondering if the religious significance is what make that okay but chuck tingle banned. that made sense until i looked deeper and saw mascot buckaroos dressed up on the exhibition floor, and saw some kind of spiderbud in a costume contest. nobody around them seemed to be all that scared. their invitations REMAINED INTACT.
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it should be mentioned here that AT ONE POINT during the discussions an email was sent from TLA saying chuck is allowed to come and wear his mask in the exhibition halls and smaller panels, just not at any of the big PAID PANELS i was once supposed to participate on. this was a confusing offer, but their explanation was that people who paid for something should have the option to not see chucks 'scary neurodivergence aid'. i tried to wrap my head around WHY they would make a distinction. maybe the exchange of money (rather than time) causes some kind of philosophical adjustment that i just cant grasp?
i wonder, would the author who wears a niqab ALSO be banned from the paid panels? i hope not
my answers trotted up short until i investigated deeper and found this quick moment from one of the TLA help videos. while some events DO require additional buckaroo cash, it actually appears that THE ENTIRE CONFERENCE IS TICKETED AND COSTS MONEY.
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at this point i realized there is clearly no actual official policy about not covering your face (other than one from a few years ago saying that you HAVE to cover your face), and the addition of 'money' is a red herring. these excuses make no sense
PART FOUR: CLOSE THOSE GATES
it appears that my neurodivergence is 'scary' enough to get me uninvited, REGARDLESS what their disability and mask policies may say
BUT WHY? why is chucks preferred physical presentation valued SO little by the TLA that a THEORETICAL complaint is worth more? is my neurodivergent expression so awful? is my own safety as a queer activist such an afterthought?
is a pink bag with the words 'love is real' scrawled across the front REALLY going to frighten someone when the posters and pamphlets on the way into in panel would have a photo of my masked face saying THIS IS LITERALLY WHO IS ABOUT TO APPEAR BEFORE YOU.
if THAT accommodation is too much, would it really be so difficult to have someone trot out beforehand and make an announcement? to say 'there is someone on this upcoming panel who needs a mask to express this part of himself, if this makes you uncomfortable then this panel might not be for you'.
and really, i have to heckin ask, is this physical expression of my raw inner truth really so hideous and frightening that fear of making someone uncomfortable is a REAL problem?
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(a terrifying display of autism. apparently)
i cannot imagine what kind of precautions they need to take before a stage play featuring costumes and masks.
you MIGHT think chucks queerness and left leaning politics could be the issue with this organization, but they have had drag queens as past speakers (also featuring some GLORIOUS makeup and hair that covers almost all of their faces. VERY CURIOUS). regardless, the TLA do not seem like a conservative bunch.
if you are bisexual or an autistic person who is good at 'passing' you probably already know where this is headed, your dang spiderbuckaroo senses are tingling at FULL ALERT. i will say i do not KNOW the real reason why i was uninvited, and i do not have enough information to make any concrete statement of the real answer. there is only evidence that masks have been fine at TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION events in the past, but not much else to go on.
so the FACTS part of our discussion ends there, but i think it opens us up to talk about some very important feelings that bisexual and autistic buckaroos know well.
THIS is where we take a unfortunate, hurtful moment and turn it into a discussion. this is where we prove love is real.
as someone who is constantly doubted and put through purity tests because of my unique way, we are pushing up against a subject i know well. thats right buckaroos: we are talking GATEKEEPING
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AGAIN, i do not know if this is the answer, but someone in my position might be VERY STRONGLY INCLINED TO THINK that a few well-meaning left leaning buckaroos think i am a joke and that this is a character, and that there is something problematic about my work because i am not really a real person.
any upstanding left leaning organization would OF COURSE allow a mask for a neurodivergent buckaroo with an unusual visual presentation, an autistic buckaroo who conquered his chronic pain ONLY by creating this important space... but what about a FAKE autistic buckaroo?
any upstanding left leaning organization would OF COURSE allow a mask for a queer LGBTQ activist standing up for gay and trans rights against a torrent of scoundrels hunting for his legal identity. its a matter of safety... but what about a FAKE queer activist?
let me be very clear for the 100th time: i am a real person. this is not a joke. i am not playing a character. i am really autistic and bisexual. tinglers are sincere and they are not ‘so bad theyre good’. they are just good. camp damascus is not ‘my first serious book’ because my queer erotica is serious. my art is important and real.
when people tell me to unmask they often do not know WHY they want it, and of course one very good reason is innocent curiosity. but there are SOME cases where i start to get THAT feeling--that tingle all of us ‘passing’ buckaroos get when we can sense the real intent behind the poking and prodding. that is the feeling of stumbling into a gatekeepers crosshairs.
if i was to take off my pink bag, what about my face would you analyze to tell if i was REALLY queer. my eye color? my ear shape? if you learned my legal name, would you see if it sounded autistic? is my voice neurodivergent enough?
or is all of that utterly absurd? i am curious what the TEXAS LIBRARY ASSOCIATION thinks.
PART FIVE: GENDERED
this will be the shortest of parts, but it has to be said. i have a very complex relationship with gender, as written about at length here and here. i understand these things can be difficult to parse for some, but i ask that you trust me when i say that the ONLY reason i have been able to talk about my gender and sexuality and learn these things about myself is because of this pink bag. this outward appearance is a direct expression and reflection of my gender journey.
if the texas library association does not care about my appearance as an expression of my autism, then i cant imagine them giving a dang about it as an expression of my gender and queerness. that being said, it is personally very important to me and i think it should be mentioned
PART SIX: SO YOU WANT TO REMOVE AN AUTISTIC QUEER AUTHOR FROM YOUR EVENT BECAUSE PEOPLE MIGHT FIND THEIR DIFFERENCES SCARY
there is a question to be asked here: how could the TLA have done this correctly?
i have one very big piece of advice i would like to shout from the rooftops. please, for the love of sweet barbara, DO ENOUGH RESEARCH to know if this appearance will be a problem and, IF SO, dont extend an invitation in the first place. unique buckaroos with different presentations are constantly left in this place of limbo because we are bombarded with careless actions like those of the TLA. before you consider extending a branch to an artist who might need more accommodations than usual, think to yourself 'CAN WE MAKE THESE ACCOMMODATIONS?'
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putting all of this on the shoulders of a single 'buckaroo with a difference' is exhausting. as the TLA has shown, we currently live on a timeline where a buckaroo like myself never really knows if an invite is SOLID without doing a deep dive history lesson on how often a group discriminates and against who.
i did not want to spend my whole family holiday worrying whether or not i should say something publicly or just lie down and shut my dang mouth. i had to consider HOW i should say it. i had to worry whether or not its worth standing up for myself in the face of the largest state library association in the country. i think buckaroos with differences are with me when i say: WE ARE SICK OF HAVING TO DO THIS WORK TO COVER FOR THE POOR BEHAVIOR OF LARGE ORGANIZATIONS WHO TREAT US BADLY
another option would just be to use kindness and common sense and happily accommodate artists with unique presentations to your conventions
PART SEVEN: LOVE IS STILL REAL
i would like to close by saying THANK YOU to my publisher nightfire and editor kelly for standing up for me. they immediately stood firm and had my back. they are the real dang deal. THANK YOU to my management and agent buds dongwon and gino for trotting along beside me. THANK YOU to the folks at the texas library association who initially invited chuck with goodness in their heart and then likely got bowled over by someone else, and maybe even got knocked to the side by a big closing gate.
i hope there are librarians in texas who are still interested in carrying BURY YOUR GAYS when it comes out (which is ironically about someone who creates a space through art to express their queerness where they cant otherwise). libraries prove love is real and what they do IS SO IMPORTANT. it was SO IMPORTANT TO ME as a young buckaroo and i cannot thank you enough. i am not sure if me writing all of this will hurt my sales in some way, but this opportunity to speak about the reality of disability awareness and queer gatekeeping is too important to stay silent. (if you have not already preordered BURY YOUR GAYS then give it a preorder to make up for some texas library losses i guess.)
which leads me to my final thank you. THANK YOU to the buckaroos reading this. yes YOU. i am in the position to stand up and speak my mind against scoundrel forces ONLY because i have the might of you buckaroos by my side. the buckaroo trot is ALL OF OUR TROT and we are ALL HERE TO PROVE LOVE. i cannot tell you how much i appreciate the way you have created a space for me to express these important parts of myself. you have seen this pink mask over my face and saying YES, I ACCEPT YOU, you have literally saved my life. for that i am so thankful.
if you are UPSET by what youve read here, then turn it into something positive. you can support autistic creators, or make a donation to the AUTISTIC SELF ADVOCACY NETWORK
and besides WHO IS REALLY MISSING OUT? this is what it looks like when you invite the worlds greatest author chuck tingle to your event and treat their identity as valid. WE HAVE A DANG GOOD TIME
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KEEP TROTTING INTO THE FUTURE. KEEP KICKING DOWN GATES WHEREVER THEY MAY BE. KEEP PROVING LOVE IS REAL AND PROVING IT TOGETHER. lets go buckaroos - chuck
UPDATE AN HOUR AFTER POSTING:
true buckaroo TJ KLUNE was set to be another author on panel chuck was removed from and has informed me he has now chosen to decline his invitation in support and solidarity with chuck. i am so deeply moved by this. thank you from bottom of heart buckaroo
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to be very clear TJ has a huge platform and DOES NOT NEED TO DO THIS. these conferences are great for book sales and he is taking a hit out of pure solidarity. this is queer buckaroos standing up for eachother. i am floored by this kindness and love
please consider checking out his books if they are not already covering your dang bookshelf. chuck blurbed IN THE LIVES OF PUPPETS and i was blown away i heckin loved it
MOST RECENT UPDATE:
here is more
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bowsersdick · 8 months
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ok rewatching spn because im a fucking idiot. i hate this show
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ratkiing-a · 10 months
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i simply followed the smell of cheese 🧀
what drew you to my blog initially, and what, so far, has made you stay ?? / @utallige / accepting !!
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starplanes · 3 months
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A (5 star) review of Bury Your Gays, by @drchucktingle!
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I read this book in one sitting. I did not plan to read this book in one sitting, but I could not put it down, accepting that my lunch break was now an extended reading break. Bury Your Gays was just that good.
It starts simple. Screenwriter Misha has been told by his exec that the season finale of his show must out, then kill the two leads. He needs to bury his gays because the board has determined it's where the money is. Misha says no. Then starts getting stalked by his (definitely fictional, right?) characters from other shows. Either Misha developed some incredible supernatural powers in that meeting, or something more sinister is at work…
Bury Your Gays illustrates why queer people should be allowed to tell the stories they want to tell, instead of being made to use queerbating, tragic tropes, or fake relentless optimism in the name of corporate Pride. It's a story about the queer struggle to find oneself in a world that makes it so, so hard. There's a lot of love for the queer community poured into this book, and oh does it shines. I especially adored the ace rep - and the concept of ace rep as a plot point. I shall not explain further. However, I am more scared than ever of the corporatization of Pride.
Bury Your Gays also criticizes capitalism's monetization of tragedy and exploitation of workers. It explores what happens when ethics are ignored in the name of an ever-growing profit margin, to the point where the bottom line becomes a near-sentient thing. It leans into the horrors of AI and data-mining by combining the two and going all the way with it. Chuck Tingle has acknowledged all my fears of black box algorithms and also made them ten times worse. Truly a feat! I will be sleeping with my router off!
It's a masterpiece of horror, both visceral and psychological. Since the main character is a horror writer, the story is very genre aware. There's a lot of fun to be had in the tale of "writer being followed by the monsters he wrote," and certainly no small amount of terror. It gets gory here and there, with plenty of suspense in between. Hints are laid out for the reader, enough where I was occasionally able to predict what was coming just a page or two before it landed. My jaw dropped multiple times! The writing is descriptive enough to pull you right in (and gross you out!), and it's paced near-perfectly. There's all these little moments sprinkled in that elevate the whole story, from fun references of other work to subtle clues you'll only catch on a reread.
This book will be living in my head rent-free from now on. It's about so many things and yet has interwoven them all perfectly. Fans of classic horror movies will love this story. Those of us fed up with AI generated trash will love it. Anyone who joined a WGA picket line will love it. Asexuals fed up with lack of representation will love it. People who watched multiple seasons of Supernatural will love it. Is that you? Go pick up Bury Your Gays. Be scared, be sad, be angry. But also validated, loved, and joyful.
TLDR: Read this book when it comes out on July 9!
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am-i-interrupting · 2 months
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Can I get Alastor reacting to his fem!pregnant S/O asking if they can name their daughter after his mother? Since he's such a momma's boy, I think it'd be cute if she brought it up as a way of expressing appreciation for helping him become the sweetheart he is today (to her at least-)
Momma’s Baby Boy, Daddy’s Little Lady
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You’d been throwing pasta at a wall and none of it was sticking. Of course, that wasn’t in the literal sense and much more metaphorical.
It’d been six months since you’d found out you were pregnant and you were a bit more than seven months along now. You didn’t need to worry about much else. You’re darling, doting husband had made sure you didn’t have to do a single thing you didn’t want to. Well, even when you wanted to, depending on what it was, he could still be stubborn about it.
The only thing you really had to worry about at this point was a name. You’d looked through news papers, phone books, even asked people their name ideas and nothing. Not a single thing seemed right.
You were at home, looking through photographs to hang in the nursery when you saw a picture of baby Alastor and his mother. They were so cute together, cheeks pressed against one another as they both smiled for the camera.
That’s when it hit you. Her name! His mother’s name would be perfect.
Alastor came home not long after, you were still giddy over your realization.
You turned to him with a big grin. He immediately raised an eyebrow as he shrugged off his coat. “I know that face,” he said. “What is it?”
“I know her name,” you said.
“Her? What happened to their?” Alastor asked. A valid question as you actually didn’t know the gender the baby would be.
“I just know it,” you said. “The name’s too perfect for it not to be a girl. I can feel it in my bones, Alastor.”
“Mmm, well, can you not crush my own?” he asked.
It was then you realized you’d taken hold of his hands and the fingers were turning pale from how hard you were squeezing them.
“Oh, sorry.”
“Let’s save that for the delivery room, shall we?”
You rolled your eyes. “Im not going to break your hand.”
“I’ve heard horror stories. It’s a possibility,” he said. He then brushed your hair out of your face, “But you were saying about a name?”
“Yes! Right.” You took a deep, steadying breath before you said, “What about your mother’s name?”
Alastor’s smile faltered, “My mother’s?”
“Yes.”
“I— Well, darling, dear, I— that is perfect, you’re correct,” he said with a bit of a strain to his voice.
“Aren’t I always?”
He placed his hands on your protruding stomach and rubbed it gently. He knelt down and placed a kiss to it. He got a kick in return as the baby moved to settle right beneath your ribs causing you to grimace.
“Oh, she’s gonna love her daddy more than her mommy,” you said.
Alastor chucked as he stood. “We shall see, my dear, on both accounts.”
You were right, of course. On all accounts. You didn’t break Alastor’s hand in the delivery room. The baby was a darling little girl. She did end up favoring her father more.
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wellofdean · 2 months
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Here's what sticks in my craw: why ON EARTH does fanon imagine that Cas has 'self-esteem issues' and experiences his love for Dean as a wet, miserable kind of yearning? What is it about any part of anything that happens on Supernatural makes anyone think that Cas, a cosmic, Eldritch being, a warrior of god, who literally hung the stars and has existed for a bazillion years, is reduced to teenage angst by Dean's pussy?
Like, when Cas says "the one thing I want I know I can't have" why do y'all think it's a piece of Dean's ass? Why does ANYONE think Cas doesn't know Dean loves him? Dean has shown Cas he loves him with literally everything he has again and again and again. Even the way Dean feels like Cas can absorb his anger is Dean showing Cas love and trust. Cas and Dean have chosen each other, forgiven each other, and been the only reliable thing in each others' lives over, and over and over again. Cas fucking knows that Dean loves him. Cas can literally hear Dean's thoughts, and feel his yearning. Cas was only saying the quiet part out loud when he said he loved Dean, because it was already obvious! If there was anyone feeling wet and lovesick, it would be DEAN, if he ever had a break in the battle to fucking feel things, which he did not.
Like, hear me out: what if the one thing Cas knows he can't have is the one thing he knows he signed over to the empty? His happiness, and by extension, Dean's, because he knows Dean loves him? What if Cas is saying: I know I can't have this thing I want for myself: to be the one to MAKE YOU HAPPY, but I can save you, and maybe Cas's belief in Dean is such that he still hopes and believes Dean will find a way to make himself happy if he lives.
After Cas's death, Dean is trying to live for him. Trying to be what Cas believed he was. It's what CANONICALLY gives Dean the strength to defeat Chuck by not killing him! And, after Dean's death, he CANONICALLY goes in search of happy endings. Like... THAT IS EXPLICITLY STATED.
I AM HAVING AN ALL CAPS MOMENT, SO SUE ME.
Guys, Cas is not a wet, yearning baby who needs Dean to say or do ANYTHING to validate his love. HE KNOWS. He is a being of unimaginable age and power. He is not beleaguered by self-esteem issues, or the need to tongue-wrestle Dean. Like, he might WANT TO, but he CANONICALLY does not need to in order to experience a happiness so complete that it puts paid to his deal. His happiness is THAT NOW DEAN ALSO KNOWS, and he can tell Dean why, and show him who he is in the mirror of that love.
Also, he is not dead, he is just on another plane of existence, and neither is Dean. Cas is a profoundly unselfish badass. He is not fucking PINING. He made a play, the best one he had. He is a strategist, and he knows Dean BY HEART.
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lundenloves · 9 months
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OMG OMG OMG HEAR ME OUT PLEASE! What if Simon/Ghost comes back home from deployment and is really stressed, annoyed and angry from a mission. He’s left alone with his oldest daughter in the house and has this horrible fight with his oldest daughter and I mean like screaming because the oldest daughter can’t find her shirt and he refuses to help until finally she blurts “I hate you” to him out of the heat of the fight…CAN THIS SOMEHOW END WITH MAJOR FLUFF BETWEEN THE TWO?! If it’s too much just ignore me❤️❤️ Thank you, I love your work🤭🤭
{✧} hello beautiful anon, you have seemingly given me life? banged this out in around an hour. if it seems like it only took an hour, please ignore that or i’ll drown myself in a loch. hope i’ve done your ask justice? thank you for asking for angst, that’s probably why it got done so fast 💀
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It was quiet in the house. Just quiet enough for Simon to process what had just happened in the last 48 hours — yet not quiet enough for his ears to ring from constant gunfire. It was a happy medium, alone bar his oldest who jogged up and downstairs at record paces. Flipping the living room upside down, and the pile of clean washing on the bottom stair was tossed to the floor in a desperate attempt to find her shirt. 
He was sitting on the sofa, head leant back, eyes shut only to hear her scuffling around. “Where’s my shirt?” She penetrated his happy silence, stood in front of him with arms dropped to her sides in a teenage palava. “Where did you put it?” 
Simon gave her a noise between a sigh and a hum, craning his neck to look up at her. “What?” He unintentionally spat, his normal tone of voice as sharp as ever. “I ‘aven’t touched your shirt.” Eyes locked to the pile of recently ironed clothes tossed to the floor by the stairs. “They’ll be in that fucking pile you’ve chucked around and walked past ten times.” 
“Well, they’re obviously not.” She groaned. 
Simon shrugged, standing up to stack this morning’s breakfast dishes. “What do you want me to do?” He shook his head at her, taking the plates to the kitchen with her trailing behind him. “I can’t magic it, can I? It’ll be wherever you’ve left it.” 
“It’s not. That’s the point. You’ve moved it.” She had genetically taken his frown, sporting it straight back to him when he had turned around to take something from the table. 
“Oh, have I?” He mumbled nonchalantly, loading the dishes into the sink with loud clatters. “Get those mugs from your room.” 
“No, I'm looking for the shirt.” Her tone matched his, stubbornly kicking her foot against the chair leg to get his attention. “Can you check mum's stuff?” 
“You can.” He turned around, a dish towel balled between his hands with a nod toward the stairs. 
Simon's moods were hard to distinguish. The primary reason being: he always seemed to be in some sort of disparity. So even when he’d come back from a particularly challenging mission, one that had asked too much from him or went horrifically wrong, he would almost always be the same as he usually was. Blunt, sarcastic and seemingly uncaring. 
You had learned to tell the difference but your daughters knew none the wiser. Leading to unknowingly provoking yet valid questions like, “What is wrong with you.” 
“Nothing. Get the mugs.” 
“You never help with shit.” She scoffed, turning on her heel to stomp upstairs and Simon’s jaw ticked. Head tilted to the side, palms leaning either side of the sink with a step back to hang his head between his shoulders. 
Having a teenage girl was the route of many headaches for Simon. Not particularly because of her, but for the natural way where everything revolves around them for an extended amount of years. Everything is embarrassing, if not first regarded as useless. And as far as Simon was concerned he fell somewhere between the two in her radar. 
“Don’t start with that.” He’d said once she had slammed the mugs down on the table behind him, his back was still toward her. 
“Well it’s fucking—“
“I mean it.” 
“It’s true you’re never here!” She shrilled. “You never do anything, you’re always angry and never help.” A beat. “You don’t even talk to us, dad.” She paused, undoubtedly eyeing him for any sort of reaction. “It’s fucked, you’re fucked.”
He turned to take the mugs, eyes avoiding hers although his jaw was tense. “And you can’t even have a conversation.” She laughed though it held no comedy. “You’ll just snap like you always do.” 
“I snap because it’s hard to switch between work and home— here.” He turned around, his daughter shying from his broad frame and low voice. Refraining from asking about Simon’s work was the one thing you had instructed all three of your kids not to do. Although, naturally it became a target point for arguments with him. A real low blow, the best and most critical hit you could land on him was his absence from home due to work. 
Bonus points if you added all he had missed, the first steps, the first words. It was a lot. But it was not there to be thrown back in his face, not as often as it was anyway. “You don’t even want to be here.” 
He shifted in his position, placing hands behind his head at her confrontation. “All of this because of that shirt.” His words directly combated hers, hitting them backward and stopping them from landing anywhere near him. Effectively avoiding her statement. 
“When’s the last time you hugged me, dad?” She said calmly yet loudly, metaphorically shattering glass over his head. 
It had been weeks, months at worst. 
His silence was telling, hands dropped down to his sides in defeat. As usual, he couldn’t find the words so she had jumped for her turn and jab one more time.
“I hate you. I hate you for that, so bad.” It came as a whisper and by that point, the kitchen had fallen quiet too. Occasional sniffs and the rubbing of the odd tear turned her face red, Simon cleared his throat. 
It only highlighted her point in that he stood still. Though, it wasn’t fair to point a finger and say it was his own fault he was that way, emotional warmth and touch just weren’t in his niche range of abilities. His thumb drew imperfect circles on the kitchen counter, staring at her with any and all outward apology he could muster. 
“I didn’t mean that.” She mumbled first, embarrassingly shifting her weight to the other foot while looking up to the ceiling, eyes darting left to right as if to hold back any more upset. She was a lot like Simon that way, although not at all. 
“I know.” He replied softly, taking a closing step toward her and placing his hand on the back of her head to pull her to his chest. “I don’t mean to be like this, you know that.” The silence made him look down to gain a nod in response, her gaze zoning out to the kitchen window as he smoothed out her hair. 
Simon was never good with words, so he always took to actions that felt even more foreign but they at least allowed for the substitution of his appeasements. “Sorry for swearing at you.” She mumbled, melting into his broad chest. 
“Someone has to put me in my place.” The vibration of the words rippled in his chest and she pulled back only to look down at the floor. “You’re a lot like me, you know.” He poked at her ribs, provoking an unwilling laugh that then turned into a smile. “A lot.” 
She shrugged, pushing his hands away after they had wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Yeah, alright.” Her frown was feigned.
“I promise you.” He turned to continue the dishes, looking back to her over his shoulder. “And your shirt is on the line.” He nodded out the window, watching as she gasped and ran outside like he had found gold. 
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as always comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! i’ll sit in a hole if no one pays me on the head every now and then.
this is unedited.
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suzukiblu · 7 months
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Day six of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon.
"You're bluffing," the thief says flatly.
"And you're fucking stupid if you think this is the play that's getting you out of here," Kon snorts, tapping a foot against the floor. "C'mon, man, give it up. I've got plans tonight." 
"Use the artifact!" the alleged "Mark" yells at the thief holding it. 
"Right!" said thief says, then . . . pauses, and looks embarrassed. "How do I . . . do that?" 
Kon looks incredibly unimpressed. Tim empathizes. Deeply. 
"You guys need a minute there?" Kon asks, raising an eyebrow. 
"Shut up!" Mark snaps at him. "Just use it, Lisa!" 
"I thought you said no names–" 
"Use it!" 
"Uh, right!" 
The thief chucks the little clay goat at Kon. Tim is genuinely embarrassed for this entire crew. 
Kon catches the goat one-handed, which is kind of a stupid idea, but letting it smash on the floor admittedly wouldn't look great. People over property, obviously, but Kon also historically has issues with property damage and letting the bad guys smash up ancient artifacts is not the best plan in general anyway. Especially given how often said ancient artifacts have ghosts or curses or apocalypses locked inside them. 
"Lisa!" the thieves all yell in horror.
"Was this the whole plan?" Kon asks, making a show of inspecting the goat. "Like, was this it? I can come back later, if you're still cooking on that."
Tim muffles a laugh with a snort. Kon definitely caught it, though, judging by his smug smirk. 
"Shut up, wannabe!" the thief still holding a gun to Tim's head snarls, which reminds Tim he should be pretending to care about the gun currently being held to his head. Honestly, he would in Gotham, but the only way this moron is shooting anybody is by accident. 
. . . admittedly, that is a concern, given the trigger discipline issue. Hm.
"Killing me would probably count as felony murder, just so you know," Tim mentions, glancing around the thieves. "Which you could all be charged with, not just whoever actually shot me. Plus I'm pretty sure stealing objects of cultural heritage from a museum is a federal crime."
He's completely sure of all that, actually, for obvious reasons, but he has to at least pretend to be a civilian here. Like, some effort needs to go into that illusion, if for no other reason than to avoid a Bat-lecture from Bruce or, worse, a Bat-"I'm not mad, just disappointed" from Dick. 
Or, worst, Alfred might make disapproving shortbread instead of approving jammy dodgers for post-patrol tonight. That'd be really unfortunate. Tim could really use an approving jammy dodger tonight. He's already going to have to write up a very annoying incident report of this situation as it is, and also deal with the mortification of getting his neck saved by a Super. There is no dignity in that. At all. 
He is definitely never telling the team his secret identity. At least not until he's absolutely positive Kon hasn't inherited any of Superman's eidetic memory, anyway. He's ninety-nine percent sure he hasn't, but that last percent is a definite concern right now. 
"No one asked your opinion, brat!" Mark snaps, though a few of the other thieves now look extremely uneasy. Tim makes another mental note about their crew's obvious lack of prep time and general planning and continues to be embarrassed for them. Museum robberies in Gotham are themed events with careful research and preparation involved, and frankly usually involve more thoughtful effort than whatever gala they may or may not be crashing did. Smash and grab is for convenience stores and small-timers. And these guys are definitely small-timers, but this is equally definitely not a convenience store.
Metropolis is so weird. Why anyone even bothers doing petty crime in it at all is beyond Tim. Maybe they're just banking on Superman being more concerned with natural disasters and alien invasions and rescuing cats from trees, which is a valid strategy. Same theory as splitting up and making a cohesive group into multiple targets.
"He has the idol!" Lisa hisses, glaring at Kon like she's not the one who threw it at him to begin with. Tim gets a gun barrel jammed into his temple again. He has no idea why Trigger Discipline: What Not To Do thinks that's, like . . . a productive thing to do. At this rate he's going to get a bruise or something.
Well, he's not actually doing it hard enough to hurt, admittedly, though Tim does keep expecting it to. The guy looks like he's putting his back into it, but the impacts continue not to actually hurt, so Tim supposes he's just trying to put on a show here. 
Well, at least he's putting in some effort, Tim supposes. That's something. 
"I really do have plans tonight, you know," Kon reminds them, raising an eyebrow at the thieves again. 
"I would appreciate you delaying those, actually," Tim mentions. "If you don't mind, I mean." 
"Oh, yeah, don't sweat it, dude," Kon says, waving him off. "These people are annoying but I'm not gonna ditch out on you here, that's not your fault." 
"Don't ignore us!" one of the unnamed thieves yells. "And give the idol back!" 
"I have no idea why you would expect me to do that," Kon says. 
"I'll shoot!" the thief holding Tim threatens, jamming the gun barrel into his head again. 
"I mean, I'm pretty sure that dude was right about the felony murder thing, so maybe don't?" Kon says, inspecting the little clay goat again. "Hm. This thing is actually kinda cute." 
"It is, isn't it," Tim agrees. "I thought it looked like a kid's toy."
"Oh yeah, I can see that," Kon says, squinting assessingly at it. "Like those chunky toddler ones?" 
"Yeah, like those," Tim confirms with a nod. "Fisher-Price, Duplo, that kind of thing." 
"I'll take your word on that one, man, my 'toddler' stage only lasted about half a day and I was sedated for it," Kon replies in amusement. Tim seethes internally and thinks very uncharitable thoughts about Cadmus. 
"I said I'll shoot!" the thief holding him says furiously, tightening his arm across Tim's neck. It's still not actually enough to hurt, but again, Tim appreciates seeing a little more effort. "Give us the idol, you stupid brat!" 
"I'm trying to help you out here," Kon says, looking exasperated. "You're just making shit worse for yourself the longer you keep this up. Put down the gun and let the guy go, you'll get a way lighter sentence." 
"Fuck you!" the thief shouts. "The power of the idol will protect us!" 
"The idol that I am currently holding, you mean?" Kon says, hefting it meaningfully. "The one that is in specifically my possession and not yours?" 
Tim does understand that talking people down is the preferred approach and Kon can't actually super-speed this problem away, but Kon could at least pretend to be taking this seriously. From his perspective, there's a civilian hostage with a gun to their head and an angry criminal with their finger on the trigger, but he's acting like there isn't any danger in the situation at all.
Tim gets the posturing thing and the general "cooler than thou" attitude Kon likes to present, but it's definitely not making any of the thieves calm down. Like, not at all is it making any of the thieves calm down. 
This incident report is going to be very annoying to write. 
"It's not yours!" Lisa shrieks at him. 
"You literally threw it at me," Kon says. "I only have it because you threw it at me. Also pretty sure it's not yours either, given all the screaming alarms and broken glass and the smashed-in wall I am currently standing in the wreckage of."
Tim starts wondering if maybe he should revisit his "tripping" plan. He doesn't really want to pull any Robin-esque moves in front of Kon, but also dying would really fuck up all that hard work he's put into being Bruce's emotional support sidekick. Also two dead Robins in a row could not possibly end well. Especially in such a stupid way. Especially in Metropolis. 
"You don't even know what you're holding, you idiot!" Lisa fumes.
"A toddler toy, I thought we established," Kon says. "'Doopler' or something?"
"Duplo," Tim corrects, internally calculating tripping angles. 
"That one, yeah," Kon amends. "Doppo." 
Tim, resignedly, thinks his determined commitment to pointlessly fucking up is adorable. Also still hates Cadmus and has the irrational urge to buy him a teddy bear or something, although Kon would definitely just think he was fucking with him if he did.
Maybe he could just smuggle one into his room and disavow all knowledge of its existence. That's an option. 
"Give us the idol now!" the thief holding Tim snarls, his face twisting in rage. 
"Yeah, no," Kon says. 
"You little–!" the thief starts to yell, and then his trigger finger slips. Tim knows this because the gun goes off right next to his ear. 
And right against his temple. 
Half the room screams and the thief yells and drops the gun, recoiling in horror. It goes off again as it hits the floor and a bullet shatters a historically-significant vase the way one should have shattered Tim's personally-significant skull. 
What the fuck?
"Shit, sorry, that was probably kinda loud," Kon says apologetically, wincing a little but otherwise looking completely unphased by all of that. Tim blinks, very slowly, and attempts to restore his resting heart rate. It's not a particularly successful attempt.
"Yeah, kinda," he says.
"Sorry, sound waves are harder to block," Kon apologizes, pointing at his own ear with his free hand, and Tim remembers the other's total lack of concern for any threat to civilian life this whole time and realizes that was because, from Kon's perspective, there wasn't any actual threat.
Huh. 
Well, that explains why neither the gun barrel nor the being choked thing actually hurt at any point, doesn't it.
"Oh," Tim says, looking down at the floor that they are, in fact, all still standing on. "Tactile telekinesis?"
"You've heard of it?" Kon says, looking pleased. 
"Once or twice," Tim says, managing not to say it too dryly. Kon looks even more pleased. "I didn't know you could use it like that, though." 
"Practice makes perfect," Kon replies smugly.
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