Stories to keep
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Mike is waiting for Will in the basement, a look of suspicious, nervous excitement on his face. He cleared the table and laid out upon it are two card games.
"Now, I know you’ll resist," Mike blurts out, stepping toward him. "But I think this will be good. For both of us! For when we... you know,” Mike trails off, “When we get partners.”
Will scoffs, stepping closer to inspect the titles.
Spill or Sip and Truth, Dare, or Strip.
Or: Mike suggests a spicy card game to help Will loosen up before college. It works a little too well, and suddenly they’re gambling with unresolved feelings, and clothes, that were meant to stay in place.
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When Harry is called to the Headmasters office at the beginning of his sixth year he isn't sure what to expect. He at least really didn't see it coming that he would become Master of Death, travel back in time to become someone else, and more importantly to stop Voldemort before he would be lost to the monster.
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''You must understand, Harry, that it's very dark magic. I don't want to taint your soul.''
Harry hisses, feeling his rage rear its ugly head again. You could taste his magic in the air, and Harry almost imagined the tendrils swirling around him wildly. Dumbledore's eyes widened.
''I call bullshit! The darkest curse was thrown at me when I was a baby, I'm almost of age, and you should just fucking tell me what I need to know. And I mean really what I need to know, and not what you want me to know. I think it's time to trust me, to trust your weapon because that's all I am, right? A soldier in this war, a weapon to end the Dark Lord, just a means to an end. The savior of the wizarding world, the boy who lived, the chosen one, and all that other rubbish!''
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Eddie Diaz has a secret. Not the “in love with Buck” one (though, sure, that’s festering too). No, this one comes with fur, whiskers, and an unsettling eagerness to use his shifted form for petty psychological warfare.
Because Buck? He’s afraid of cats. Something about “the staring” and “they’re plotting to steal my soul”. Eddie, being the picture of maturity, reacts by shifting into a cat and showing up everywhere. Buck’s door. The firehouse. His balcony. In his laundry. Just…watching.
Eddie is thriving. Chris is an evil mastermind. And Buck spirals, convinced the cat is haunting him, gifting him presents, and slowly gnawing at his sanity. This is not a pet-owner dynamic. This is a hostage situation with emotional manipulation from a four-legged gremlin.
Everything’s flawless - until Eddie accidentally unleashes the nightmare that is cat-dad Buck. Then forgets he’s not supposed to be naked in Buck’s apartment. At least, not like that.
Oops.
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the misfortune of knowing anything by a_alene for little_boats_on_a_lake
Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
23 Jun 2023
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“My name is Jason Todd,” he starts, mournfully. He can save the alias for later. “I was kidnapped by Bruce Wayne, who is actually Batman, and he wants to eat me. I need your help to escape back home and start a new life.”
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Jason has dragged Tim Drake into his attempt to run away. Batman wants it to be known that he does not eat children. This is what you get for hoarding orphans, Bruce.
Bookmarked by beeherself
17 May 2025
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Bookmarker's Notes
adorable and funny
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How to play connect the dots with the spaces between the actual dots. by letmebefranwithyou
Fandoms: The Host - Stephenie Meyer
07 Oct 2020
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Why, truly, does Wanderer decide that death is the answer at the end of The Host?
Would she, someone who will now have to sit with the horror of living at the expense of Petals Open To The Moon, alive only because Petals suffered so much she was erased from her own consciousness, have been better off dead?
What does it mean for this book if one makes the effort to take a step back from its biased 1st person POV, the effort to engage with the narrative as a whole instead of focusing on how it serves Wanderer as the protagonist, and the effort to recognize that The Author Is Dead?
Let's look at the blank spaces between the narrative dots Meyer meant for us to connect, and what happens to the plot and to the characters when we insist that the blank spaces are as much part of the book as the dots, and at its juicy, juicy consequences.