We Are Not Your Fool

I think this disaster with the Beauty and the Beast announcement is a really good example of why the type of representation matters just as much as the existence of it.

So, for all twelve of you who don’t know, Disney announced that LeFou aka the idiot sidekick is gay. He’s the guy who hangs on to Gaston’s every word and is basically just a brown-nosing suck-up. And his name literally means “the fool”.

And Disney announced that and went, hey, here’s a gay character, we’re doing representation, you’re welcome. And the queer community went what the fuck.

Even ignoring Disney’s history of queercoding villains, this is about the worst way to try to do representation of queer characters. Let me let this out for you. This character is:

  • In love with a straight guy who’s actively lusting over a girl (so won’t get a happy ending)
  • In love with an asshole (so has bad taste)
  • An idiot (his name is literally “the fool”)
  • A villain
  • Defined purely by their love

And this is the only explicitly queer character that they have. And this is for what’s basically a kid’s movie. So for a lot of kids, the first explicitly queer character they may be seeing will not only be the bad guy but will be idiotic and frankly repulsive. Nobody likes a brownnoser. And given how things are going in media, particularly media for children, this might be the only explicitly queer character they see for a long time. So this will be it. This will be the character.

We don’t want representation that will hurt us. Don’t just slap queerness onto an awful character and ask us to thank you for it. We won’t praise you for fucking us.

here’s a story about how gay athenos and vasily are for each other:

They don’t touch, after the wedding. For months they sleep in separate beds in the same room, Vasily’s quarters. Athenos hates them. Ostentatious, he calls them. Sophisticated, Vasily retorts. This is how their days pass, sharp barbs and microaggressions that start to add up, until Vasily is a portrait of cracks, spiderwebbing across his carefully cultivated facade. It’s nothing, really. He’s dealt with worse from more important people. He’s heard the rumors in the Senate. He clawed his way up from the dirt, and one man’s opinion of him can’t possibly break him.

Except that, somehow, it begins to. Athenos can be exceedingly cruel behind closed doors, and his opinion of Vasily must be incredibly low if the insults are anything to gauge by. Vasily, who has risen above them all, has never feared the opinions of the masses but always twisted them in his favor- Vasily hurts.

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The night wore on. News came through, from barricades at bridges and gates. There were forays, more to test the defenders’ strength of will than make a serious dent in the defenses. And there were even more deserters.

One reason for the desertion rate was that those people of a practical turn of mind were working out the subtle economics. The People’s Republic of Treacle Mine Road lacked all the big, important buildings in the city, the ones that traditional rebels were supposed to take. It had no government offices, no banks, and very few temples. It was almost completely bereft of important civic architecture.

All it had was the unimportant stuff. It had the entire slaughterhouse district, and the butter market, and the cheese market. It had the tobacco factors, and the candlemakers, and most of the fruit and vegetable warehouses, and the grain and flour stores. This meant that while the Republicans were being starved of important things like government, banking services, and salvation, they were self-sufficient in terms of humdrum, everyday things like food and drink.

People are content to wait a long time for salvation, but prefer dinner to turn up inside an hour.


Vimes climbed back up the barricade. The city beyond was dark again, with only the occasional chink of light from a shuttered window. By comparison, the streets of the Republic were ablaze.

In a few hours, the shops out there were expecting deliveries, and they weren’t going to arrive. A city like Ankh-Morpork was only two meals away from chaos at the best of times.

Every day maybe a hundred cows died for Ankh-Morpork. So did a flock of sheep and a herd of pigs, and the gods alone knew how many ducks, chickens, and geese. Flour? He’d heard it was eighty tons, and about the same amount of potatoes, and maybe twenty tons of herring. He didn’t particularly want to know this kind of thing, but once you started having to sort out the everlasting traffic problem, these were the kind of facts that got handed to you.

Every day, forty thousand eggs were laid for the city. Every day, hundreds, thousands of carts and boats and barges converged on the city with fish and honey and oysters and olives and eels and lobsters. And then think of the horses dragging this stuff, and the windmills … and the wool coming in, too, every day, the cloth, the tobacco, the spices, the ore, the timber, the cheese, the coal, the fat, the tallow, the hay EVERY DAMN DAY

And that was now. Back home, the city was twice as big …

Against the dark screen of night, Vimes had a vision of Ankh-Morpork. It wasn’t a city, it was a process, a weight on the world that distorted the land for hundreds of miles around. People who’d never see it in their whole life nevertheless spent that life working for it. Thousands and thousands of green acres were part of it, forests were part of it. It drew in and consumed …

… and gave back the dung from its pens, and the soot from its chimneys, and steel, and saucepans, and all the tools by which food was made. And also clothes, and fashions, and ideas, and interesting vices, songs, and knowledge, and something which, if looked at in the right light, was called civilization. That was what civilization meant. It meant the city.

Was anyone else out there thinking about this?

A lot of the stuff came in through the Onion Gate and the Shambling Gate, both now Republican and solidly locked. There’d be a military picket on them, surely. Right now, there were carts on the way that’d find those gates closed to them. Yet, no matter what the politics, eggs hatch, and milk sours, and herds of driven animals need penning and watering, and where was all that going to happen? Would the military sort it out? Well, would they? While the carts rumbled up, and then were hemmed in by the carts behind, and the pigs escaped, and the cattle herds wandered off?

Was anyone important thinking about this? Suddenly the machine was wobbling, but Winder and his cronies didn’t think about the machine, they thought about money. Meat and drink came from servants. They happened.

Vetinari, Vimes realized, thought about this sort of thing all the time. The Ankh-Morpork back home was twice as big and four times as vulnerable. He wouldn’t have let something like this happen. Little wheels must spin so that the machine can turn, he’d say.

But now, in the dark, it all spun on Vimes. If the man breaks down, it all breaks down, he thought. The whole machine breaks down. And it goes on breaking down. And it breaks down the people.

Behind him he heard a relief squad marching down Heroes Street.

“–how do they rise? They rise knees up! knees up! knees up! They rise knees up, knees up high. All the little angels–”

For a moment, Vimes wondered, looking out through a gap in the furniture, if there wasn’t something in Fred’s idea about moving the barricades on and on, like a sort of sieve, street by street. You could let through the decent people, and push the bastards, the rich bullies, the wheelers and dealers in people’s fates, the leeches, the hangers-on, the brownnosers, and courtiers, and smarmy plump devils in expensive clothes, all those people who don’t know or care about the machine but stole its grease, push them into a small and smaller compass and then leave them in there. Maybe you could toss some food in every couple of days, or maybe you could leave ‘em to do what they’ve always done, which was live off other people … 

~ Terry Pratchett, Night Watch

Art from the U.K. book cover by Paul Kidby.

holycaribous said: bittyparse, kent is on the hockey team and he’s an avid fan of watching figure skating and eric bittle the skater

(IDK if you’ll agree with my characterization of Parse but I see him as juuuuuust a bit inappropriate and overly confident ^_^)

“Watch your feet,” comes a voice from the side. Bitty skids to a stop and turns, frowning.

Oh, shit.

Kent Parson is watching him again. Bitty lets out a sigh. He supposes Olympic athletes of any stripe can go where they want, but there ought to be a special exception for arrogant hockey players who think they know from figure skating. Bitty turns up his nose and keeps skating.

“Steady,” comes Kent’s voice, “that’s it, don’t flinch–”

Bitty promptly flinches. He doubles the triple, two-foots the landing, and doesn’t even bother with the double flip afterward. Sighing, leaning forward to rest his wrists on his bent knees, he catches his breath. That does it.

He skates toward Kent. “Now listen here, Mr. Parson,” he says, plopping his hands onto his hips like Katya does when she’s about to give him a talking-to, “I don’t recall hiring you as my coach.”

Kent’s eyes are shining. “No, I know, I know,” he says. “But I’ve been watching you forever, and I know you flinch right when you go into that combination. I keep wondering why, what about it trips you up? You don’t have a problem when the jump’s not in combination.”

“I also don’t have a problem when perfect strangers aren’t shouting at me from the sidelines,” Bitty snaps. He wishes he were skating with his earbuds in. Unfortunately, there’s not really room for an iPhone in his costume. And Bitty has to get used to the damn thing.

“Come on, Eric,” Kent says with a grin that must, in some circumstances, be disarming. “We’re not strangers. We’re teammates. U.S.A., U.S.A.” He pumps his fist.

Eric rolls his eyes. “Which is why you went to the Q for juniors,” he says. “Oh, don’t you look surprised at me, Mr. Parson. You’re not the only one who read the team bios on the plane.”

“I– I didn’t just read your bio,” Kent says, and there’s the faintest bit of a flush in his cheeks. “I’m a fan. I’ve been a fan for ages. I just want to help.”

“Oh?” Bitty cocks an eyebrow at him. “Then I suppose I’ll wander down the next time you practice and give you a few pointers too, except for wait, I won’t because I’m a gentleman and perfectly willing to admit I don’t know your sport.”

“You can give me pointers anytime.” Kent’s grinning now. Oh, great. What has Bitty unleashed? “Hell, I’d love to hear your tips on speed. If I don’t catch that Mashkov freak, we could lose to Russia.”

“It’s all in the blade— ugh, what am I doing?” Bitty throws up his hands. “Listen, *Kent, I’ll let you go ahead and keep watching, but please keep your suggestions to yourself.”

“Okay, okay!” The stupid grin is still on Parson’s face. Bitty turns his back and skates aggressively away. He’s not going to put up with this kind of brownnosing on his precious practice time.

But he’s not gonna flinch in that next combination, either.


If the Shoe Fits… (M!Corrin x Oboro)

Sometimes Oboro could not understand her husband.

A little eccentricity was fine, she had worked for the royal family (and alongside their other retainers) for a long time. She became quite familiar with some of the more colorful personalities in Hoshido. Oboro herself was guilty of having a few quirks. When she first laid eyes on Corrin, the blue-haired woman had some suspicions that he was a little odd. When Oboro had her first extended conversation with Corrin, those suspicions were validated.

Corrin tended to be a bit blunt, he would ask a very personal question before realizing it. Perhaps because of this, another of Corrin’s quirks was that he would apologize at the drop of a hat. She and Hinata once had a drinking game over how many times Corrin could say ‘I’m so sorry’ in one day. Perhaps the cause of this would be his other quirk: the fact that Corrin was optimistic to a fault. While by no means a fool, he was usually the last person to think a bad thought about anybody. A little eccentricity didn’t bother Oboro, and she found something strangely endearing about just how odd Corrin could be. But when it came to Corrin’s fashion sense…

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i think you and the moon and neptune got it right

Bellarke AU Week Day 5: College AU
or, the class “partners in crime” AU based on this post

Rated: General Audiences

Read it on [AO3]

Walking in the door the first day of her criminal justice class, Clarke’s first thought was There’s no way any of my friends were crazy enough to sign up for an 8 am class. Naturally, since the universe obviously hated her, she was proven wrong. (Or maybe it didn’t hate her. She’d have to wait and see before making a final call on that.)


“Hey, Monty.” (Okay, she was going with the universe doesn’t hate me. Mainly because Monty was at least eighty percent of the reason she hadn’t failed multivariable calculus, their senior year of high school.) “Heads-up, if I’m grumpy today — or any day, really — don’t take it personally, I’m just resenting my mom for talking me into signing up for a class in this time slot.”

“No, I feel you.” He patted her on the back consolingly. “I’m already regretting it too.”

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Robin, meet Cyclops. You’re both brownnosing dickheads. You should get along great. Letseehere who else wants to fuck. Kitty and Garfield. Raven and Storm. And Wolverine and Raven. This is like an episode of Big Brother. Come on people, minds out of the gutter! The universe is about to be destroyed! Seriously! (The Uncanny X-Men and the New Teen Titans #1 – 1982)

La Seine

Summary: After a quiet night of patrol, Ladybug and Chat Noir decide to take a stroll down Pont Neuf across the river Seine. So how did they end up dancing together? (Based on a Monster of Paris and Miraculous Ladybug crossover I wanted to do but what beaten to it. Curse you college schoolwork and midterms! So I did a fanfic of it instead.)

Rating: K+

A/N: I can’t write fluff or romance for the life of me, sorry. I wrote this in the span of three days, in between classes. I’m in Ladybug hell right now.

“I swear, Kitty,” hissed Ladybug, “If another cat pun or flirty remark passes thoses lips, you’ll be taking a bath in the Seine.”

“So harsh, my Lady,” whimpered Chat Noir, giving his partner the sad puppy…er…kitty cat eyes.

The bells of Notre Dame echoed throughout the city, signaling midnight and the end of Sunday. Class started in a couple of hours and Marinette still had to finish the last five question of her algebra homework and squeeze in some hour of sleep. The dark circles under her eyes were getting worse, so much that both Alya and her parents were concern about how well she was sleeping. Heck, Ms. Bustier pulled her aside after class and asked if she needed to visit the nurse’s office, which she refuse and stated that she was fine. Marinette ended up downing four cups of coffees to stay away that day.

She blamed Hawk Moth and his increasing akuma attacks on the Parisian citizens. Seven in the last month, a record. Five students from their schools and two adults, all of them deadly and persistent with their attacks. It had gotten so bad that she had to exchange her elbow length jacket and capris for long jeans and full sleeve shirt to cover the bruises and cuts from the battles. Thankfully, it was autumn so no one questioned her change in outfit when the weather started to get a bit chilly.

You’d think that my cleansing power would heal these injuries,’ thought Ladybug, rubbing her wrist. It was still sore after fighting that evil acrobatic performer two days ago. That villain could kick, hard!

She was incredible grateful for quiet, non-eventful patrols at night. Not only was the air crisp and refreshing in the dark of the night, but the lights of Paris were always breathtakingly beautiful. Marinette sometimes wished she could bring her sketchbook with her on patrol and just draw the cityscape and get inspiration for new designs. It was a wonderful night.

Now if only Chat Noir could shut his mouth for a minute.

The only downside to this night was his non-stop flirty remarks and annoying cat puns. Don’t get her wrong, Marinette trusts Chat Noir with her life, he’s her partner, her other half, she cares for him and often enjoys his company. But his coy attitude and teasing remarks were driving her up the wall, more so than usual. Chat Noir must have had a good day to be acting like this.

And indeed, Adrien had a great day! He manage to ace two test he previously thought he flunked, his father, still on his business trip in Italy, permitted him to stay overnight at Nino’s home next weekend and Plagg had slept through majority of the day, giving Adrien a break from his bad luck and, for once, didn’t have his bag stinking of camembert cheese all day. Topping off the fact that there was no akuma attacks and could spend a quiet night with his beloved Ladybug, Chat Noir was on cloud nine.

The two decide to end their patrol on Pont Neuf, taking in the sight of Paris’ famed river. Ladybug felt at peace watching the water flow underneath the bridge, taking in the slight breeze blowing from the north. Chat Noir took this opportunity to stretch his cramping limbs in a cat-like manner. Marinette had to slap her hand over her mouth to keep herself from giggling, she’d never admit it but Chat looked cute when his cat-like instincts too over. Like the incidents with the ball of yarn and laser pointer. Poor Chat couldn’t look at her in the eye without turn red from embarrassment. The duo was then startled when they heard a loud foghorn-like noise mixed with a stream of music and chattering.

Gliding slowly over the river and anchoring under the bridge was a small yacht, a rather luxurious one at that. Onboard were multiple people all dressed impeccably, mingling about the upper deck while a group of musician played songs. Marinette watch the festivity in envy, wishing she could partake in such gatherings. Dancing among the high class, in a gown design and made by her, being admired as Marinette instead of Ladybug. She often dreamed of having a Cinderella-like moment at these events, her being Cinderella and Adrien being her handsome prince. Oh, who was she kidding? These people were clearly above her social standing. Chloe and Adrien were more fit to be among these people than the clumsy, baker’s daughter.

Adrien, however, silently groan at the boat upon closer inspection. He could recognize it as one of Chloe’s father’s friends, a couple whom enjoy throwing lavish parties until the early morning hours. Chloe ‘persuaded’ him to attend a few of his parties, each more boring than the last. Hours of people merely showering the two teens with complements on how influential he and his father were in the fashion world and how Chloe looked so nice and the wonderful improvements her father made as the mayor of Paris. No dancing, no games, it was merely people standing around in fancy outfits, brownnosing it with other wealthy socialites and listening to music.

“Oh, I love this song,” cooed Ladybug, leaning over the edge of the bridge. The music wafted up from the boat into the air, the upbeat tone lightening the mood around them.

Chat Noir followed her example and lean over too, he recognized the tune as well, “La Seine, right? That’s the name of the song?”

“Yeah, my mom used to play it over and over when I was a kid,” Ladybug could see the trio of musicians playing in a little booth at the front of the boat. Looking closer, the guests were all decked out in designer cocktail dresses and three-piece suits, drinking champagne and munching on hors d’oeuvres. Mon Dieu, she was hungry. Dinner was hours ago and all that running around on patrol left her stomach growling.

“No singing,” stated Chat, looking over the party in boredom, “Guess it’s just instrumental.”

“What a shame, I’ve always like singing along to the song,” Ladybug tapped her fingers against the stone, matching the beat of the song.

Chat raised a masked eyebrow, “You sing, My Lady?”

“Yeah, a bit,” said Ladybug, “Though it’s nothing to brag about. It’s just normal singing like you do with your favorite songs or in the shower.”

The song ended with the crowd of partiers clapping and raising their glasses in approval. Some called out for an encore, which the musicians seem happy to comply. The song started off again, the uplifting beat echoing through the canal and up to the bridge with towards the two heroes. Ladybug started rapping her fingers against the stone in harmony with the melody, the lyrics appearing in her head.

She’s resplendent, so confident, la Seine, la Seine, la Seine,” sang Ladybug, swaying a bit to the music, “I realize, I’m hypnotized, la Seine, la Seine, la Seine. I hear the moon singing a tune, la Seine, la Seine, la Seine. Is she divine? Is it the wine? La Seine, la Seine, la Seine.”

The musicians from the boat started to pick up the beat and with it, Ladybug couldn’t help but start dancing. Years in ballet taught her balance and fluidity as well as a sense of gracefulness. Too bad Marinette, shy and clumsy in a crowd, couldn’t transfer that same grace without tripping on her feet. But as Ladybug, it was second nature to her.

I don’t know, don’t know, so don’t ask me why, that’s how we are, La Seine and I,” Ladybug swayed her hips, her feet gliding back and forth with the beat, twirling back and forth, “I don’t know, don’t know, so don’t ask me why, that’s how we are, La Seine and I.”

As Marinette spun around, she felt an arm wrapped around waist and pulled her towards a warm body. Chat Noir, who watch his Lady elegantly dance about herself, grew reckless and bored of watching her dancing alone and decided to join in. Adrien remember how she teased him for a while for that ridiculous Gangnam style dance he did and how silly he looked to her. He wanted to show Ladybug what an expert dancer he really was, plus it was a valid excuse just to be close to her.

I feel alive when I’m beside, la Seine, la Seine, la Seine,” sung Chat Noir, holding his lady in a closed position, his hand resting on the curve of her back while his clasp her right hand together with his, gliding his partner into a waltz, “From this angle like an angel, la Seine, la Seine, la Seine.”

Marinette let out a small laugh before placing her other hand on Chat’s leather-clad shoulder and followed in step with his waltz, “I don’t know, don’t know, so don’t ask me why, that’s how we are, La Seine and I. I don’t know, don’t know, so don’t ask me why, that’s how we are, La Seine and I.”

When Chat has spun her around, Ladybug saw her chance and let go of his hand and jumped onto the stone parapet. She beckoned her partner onto the edge to continue their dance. Chat accepted the challenge and jumped onto the edge, dancing next to his Lady. “Upon the bridge…” sang Ladybug, “My heart does beat,” finished Cat Noir.

Between the waves,” Ladybug jeté across a foot in front of her, before twisting her body towards Chat Noir, “We will be saved,” Chat Noir held his arms opening, like he was expecting Ladybug to jump into his arms. Ladybug giggled and spun her body towards him, “The air we breathe,” wrapping one arm around her waist and locking his other hand with hers, Chat Noir held his Lady as she did an arabesque pose, “Can you believe?” Chat Noir spun Ladybug to face him, back to their waltz position, “Learn to forgive upon the bridge.”

The two jumped down and continued their waltz upon the streets, the music still going on strong, “That’s how we are, the Seine and I,” they fell into rhythm, each steps perfectly alined with one another, “That’s how we are, the Seine and I,” their movements became faster, their dance fluctuating from a waltz to a tango to paso doble then back to a waltz, “That’s how we are the Seine and I. That’s how we are the Seine and I.”

The song ended just as Chat Noir elegantly dipped his lady. Applause could be heard coming from the boat though the two didn’t seem to notice, too exhausted from the improve dance and song they just broke out in. Ladybug’s chest rose up and down rapidly as Chat Noir gently pulled her back upright, both staring into each other’s eyes.

They didn’t register the yacht moving further away, taking the music with it. Nor did they notice when they were plunged into utter silence, with only the sound of their hasty breathing. All they could do was staring at each other. Marinette never notice how beautiful Chat’s eyes were, a shade of green that reminded her of the leaves and plants in the spring. Alive, encompassing, with a hint of mischief nestled inside. Likewise, Chat gazed into Ladybug’s piercing blue eyes that, to him, shone brighter than the Earth’s sky. Adrien knew she was half Chinese and thought of how lucky she was to have such a rare and beautiful shade of blue for eyes. Eyes that radiated confidence, strength and warmth, he wished he could drown himself in those eyes.

Suddenly, the two were snapped out of their daze by the beeping of their Miraculous, signaling their time limit running out. Ladybug jumped out of Chat’s arms and placed some distance between the two of them. She placed a gloved hand over her heart, trying to calm herself and catch her breath. Why was her face so hot?

“That was fun,” smiled Ladybug, trying to contain the butterflies in her chest. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest; she couldn’t believe she had done that! And with Chat Noir of all people!

Chat Noir grinned, his cheeks slightly red, though she didn’t know if it was from the dancing or how close they were moments ago, “Indeed, my Lady. We must do it again sometime.”

“In your dreams, Kitty,” she panted, trying to regain her breath. Great, now she was tired, sweaty and sleep-deprived. Marinette made a mental note to shower before climbing into bed.

“You know what they say about dreams,” purred Chat, “You have to dream before your dreams can come true. And I’ll be sure to dream sweetly of you.”

Ladybug groaned, back to the flirting. She bid her partner a good bye and a goodnight as she strung her yoyo to the nearest building ledge and swung upward. Chat Noir remained in that spot for a while, watching his beloved companion swing from building to building until she was out of sight. Only then did he start jogging towards the opposite direction, praying that Natalie isn’t having another all-nighter for his father. The women had the ears of a hawk!

Five minutes after the two superheroes left the scene of the dance, Alya came out from hiding behind one of the bridge’s curved stone bench, her body covered by one of the pillars. She had followed Ladybug and her partner Chat Noir for hours during their patrols, hoping to get any action by Paris’s heroes or juicy hint on their identity. Sure school was in a few hours and Marinette would fret about her being out so late but who cares! After what she just witness, the punishment would be well worth it.

Who knew Ladybug could sing so well or that she and Chat Noir could make such beautiful music together? Alya replayed the video on her camera zooming in on the faces of Ladybug and Chat Noir as the dance and sang; look directly into each other’s eyes. If she weren’t so tired, she would have busted out squealing at the obvious attraction happening. Mon Dieu, they were so cute together!

I don’t get why Marinette keeps saying they aren’t a couple,’ thought Alya, scoffing at the idea of Ladybug and Chat Noir NOT being romantically together, ‘I think it’s pretty obvious that they have some relationship going on. How can they not?!’

Alya yawned loudly and panic when she saw it was 1:38am. She stashed the camera into her bag and started jogging back to her house. Thankfully, her parents are heavy sleepers so she’ll have time to sneak in, upload the video to her blog and get into bed without anyone being the wiser. While Alya could have just wait until morning, but with a video as juicy as this, she risk falling asleep in class.

A/N: I’m thinking about doing a part 2 for this fic, purely for the reactions.

Brownnosers” by David Černý
Located in FUTURA Museum, Prague
if you climb inside, there is a video of impersonators wearing rubber masks of Vaclav Klaus (President of Czech Republic) and of Milan Knizak (head of the National Gallery in Prague). The two masked men feed each other white soup to the song, “We are the Champions.”

Meeting was a bust...

Pretty tired of overly eager brownnosers trying to weasel their way into some easy funds and fast send offs…I’m done designing mediocre duplex’s for these idiots…

Of course the big guys upstairs weren’t too pleased that I told off and kicked out an old client but hey…I just saved us like 2.5 mil…so yeah… fuck ‘em

- Robin #75

In which Tim gets friendly with the dean’s mutt Cardigan (!) because the dog knows Robin’s scent and it makes it easier for Tim to sneak in and out after sundown and  curfew. Looks like brownnosing but really is just Tim weiliding his ‘Robin magic’. :)